


Anxious Spirits

by EmPhoenixCat



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death and stuff, Ghosts, I do have warnings before every chapter just in case tho, I guess it's a bit of a thriller, I honestly don't know how to tag this story, I keep second-guessing what to say about this story, I should be frank and just tell you that there are some parts written from the abuser's perspective, M/M, Multi, Ohhh confusing snek bois and strange spirit powers don't mix, Other, Psychic Abilities, The character Deceit (Colton/DC is confusing as heck), also y'all know death is inevitable in a story about death visions, not quite a horror, tw abuse, what have i gotten myself into?, y'all are seriously gonna hate me at some point during this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-18 12:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmPhoenixCat/pseuds/EmPhoenixCat
Summary: -Virgil keeps having nightmares and visions of his death and Roman is somehow connected.-Roman has always been the town outcast because of his ability to see spirits, but then he moves to a new town where a seemingly kind ghost helps him gain popularity. Everything is going smoothly until a geeky mind reader and a bubbly healer find out that he isn't as normal as he appears to be. At least....he thinks everything is going smoothly; however, Virgil's instincts still say otherwise.





	1. Prologue: A Nightmarish Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for full story: gaslighting, abusive relationships, blood, and major character death

It was always the same nightmare that haunted Virgil.

It started off innocent enough. He was flying through the clouds, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair. He felt alive, so much more alive. The lights of the city could be seen from above, a beautiful blur. And he was free from all his worries.

Unfortunately, that freedom never seemed to last.

A massive dark shadow would throw him off course. A monstrous chuckle echoing in his head as he was left dazed and confused, the darkness overtaking him.

Deep crimson eyes would reveal themselves and then a hideous mouth full of jagged teeth. The thing would speak in thunderous tones, delighting in Virgil’s fear.

 **“Death could have been the end to all your problems if you had just joined me. But no, you had to vow your loyalty to THEM,”** it snarled in disgust. **“And for what? You think they love you? You think they could love a corpse? Don’t be so stupid. All they have ever done is pity you.”**

Virgil staggered backwards, clutching his head as the sharp words reverberated within his skull.

He struggled to find his voice amidst the pounding in his head. “N--no, you’re wrong!”

**“You’re nothing more than a foolish, ignorant child.”**

Virgil steeled himself to look into those piercing, hate-filled eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if they love me. I will protect them no matter what. That’s a promise.”

The awful thing smiled with it’s sharp, crooked teeth. It’s eyes narrowed, looking straight into his soul. **“You speak the truth, but there is something more to it than that. You love him. Your childhood friend. Your knight in shining armor….”** The monster’s grin stretched wider and wider as it spoke directly into Virgil’s mind.

**“....Your _Prince_.”**


	2. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil wakes up from his recurring nightmare, but can't get back to sleep. He remembers something unpleasant....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nightmares, death mention, vomit, panic attack, child maltreatment

Virgil woke up with a strangled cry of panic. He struggled to steady his pounding heart before reality slowly sunk in.

He lightly touched his neck, feeling the pulse of his artery. Letting out a sigh of relief, he let his head drop back onto his pillow.

_Still alive. Calm down, you’re still alive._

It was always the same nightmare. Always the same and he was tired of it. Many things within the nightmare bothered him. For one thing, he was dead. And not even at a decent age. He seemed to only be a teenager. At least, that’s what Virgil could guess from the sound of his own voice in the dream.

 _I’m gonna die young,_ Virgil thought sadly to himself. He had been absolutely certain of this for awhile now. The bad dream had plagued him for as long as he could remember. He was 10 years old now, and completely frightened of the future. His family had long since given up on easing his many worries. Hating him was so much easier.

Virgil didn’t really blame them though. Who wanted a child that had nightmares every night and anxiety attacks every day?

His mother was a lot more supportive than his father. For that, he was grateful. But he could see the strained look on her face whenever she reached out to comfort him. She would hold him and assure him that the nightmare was simply a bad dream, nothing more. Though her attempts to reassure him became less frequent over time.

It hardly mattered anyway.

Virgil knew better.

He knew better because awful visions had started to plague him even during the day. They weren’t intrusive thoughts. No. These were different.

He recalled the first time he had had one of these visions....

* * *

 

 

It had happened unexpectedly just last year. He had been concentrating on math homework when everything had suddenly gone dark. He had screamed out in panic, his hands held out in front of him as he desperately felt around the room. _Can’t see! Can’t see! Why can’t I see?_

Then a small pinpoint of light appeared and Virgil stopped in confusion. Was it real? Or was his eyesight just messing up again? Was it coming back?

The light grew bigger.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” his mother’s voice sounded far away, but he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

“I---I can’t see!” he sobbed.

The light continued to grow, colors began to appear like ink dripping on a blank canvas.

“What do you mean you can’t see?”

He shook his head in frustration, “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s happening!”

The inkblots began to take shape, changing form. An image. A vision.

“What’s he blubbering about?” came another voice in the distance.

“He says he can’t see….wha---what should I do?” His mother sounded like she was on the brink of panic.

“Take him to the emergency or something. If he’s being serious then they’ll know for sure.” his father said in a matter-of-fact way.

Virgil was trembling as the conversation faded away from consciousness. Was he losing his hearing too?

The vision became more clear. It was his younger cousin. A little girl he had only met once at a family reunion. Her name was Jenny and she had bright blue eyes and light blonde hair. She seemed to be running. Running and smiling happily, a group of kids chasing her in a playful game of tag. The background took shape behind her. Dark browns, light sepias, and rich greens falling together. Trees. She was in a forest. The picture continued to change, playing out like a movie scene. Jenny glanced behind her, but stumbled forward and fell. Suddenly, Virgil was no longer an outside observer. It was like someone or something had pulled him into what he was seeing, giving him a first person point of view. He was Jenny. And they were falling.

But it wasn’t just a slight trip. They were really _falling._

Jenny had somehow managed to run straight off a cliff.

And the vision didn’t end before they hit the ground either. Virgil felt their fragile bones break on impact.

He wasn’t sure if he screamed or not.

Then....his perspective switched again. This time, he was one of the other kids. They stopped at the edge, heart wildly racing as they urged themselves to look over the precipice. And they saw her. Her broken, crumpled body.

 

The vision finally ended and Virgil was thrown back into his own reality. His brain barely registered that he was in a doctor’s office before he clutched his stomach and retched.

“Oh, Virgil. Honey, are you okay?” his mother was in the room with him.

Virgil could only shake his head and heave again. After he was finally finished, he looked up to see his parents staring at him. Concern lined his mom’s face, but his father seemed disgusted.

His father was the first to break the silence, “The doctors couldn’t figure out what was going on. They think that you may have had a panic attack….”

“It---it wasn’t. I think I had a….vision.”

His parents just stared at him. Virgil’s dad moved forward, his face unreadable as he looked his son in the eyes.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Fa---father, I swear….I saw something. It was cousin Jenny. She was playing some sort of game with her friends and she---” Virgil shook his head, his words caught in his throat.

“---she died.” he whispered.

His dad looked angry now.

“What? What the hell are you going on about?”

Virgil flinched at the sudden change in his father’s voice.

“I don’t know! I just….I saw her fall off a cliff. I saw---I felt….”

Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as his father grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet.

His father glanced back at his wife, “Tell the doctor that everything’s fine. I’m just gonna take V to the car.”

She peered at her husband’s furious face and slowly nodded before looking away.

Virgil knew that he was about to be punished, but he wasn’t really sure why.

When they got to the car, his dad opened the back doors and beckoned him inside. Virgil went in, his dad close behind.

“You shouldn’t tell lies, V.”

“But, it’s not a lie! You’ve gotta believe me, da--”

Virgil’s words were cut off as his father smacked him in the face full force. Virgil touched his cheek in shocked confusion.

“You don’t tell lies.”

And that was the end of the argument….

Until he next day when his parents received a phone call from Virgil’s aunt. She was completely hysterical. Apparently, Jenny had passed away that morning. A tragic incident in which she had fallen to her death.

That’s when Virgil’s father had completely snapped. In his father’s eyes, Virgil was no longer his son. He was nothing more than a mistake. A bad omen. A curse.

* * *

 

 

Virgil tried to shake the unpleasant memories from his mind.

_How am I ever gonna get back to sleep now?_

The anxious child threw his covers aside and got out of bed, his room lit by a softly glowing nightlight. A light that he would be terrified without.

He cautiously made his way downstairs to make himself a mug of hot chocolate, one of the few things that calmed him down a bit. As he set about making the soothing elixir, he couldn’t help but think back on the mysteries of the recurring nightmare. Who was the monster and what did they want from him? Who were the others that it referred to? And _who_ was the prince?

The sound of footsteps broke Virgil from his musings. He swiftly turned around, afraid that death had found him. Or worse, his father.

Luckily, it was his mother who entered the kitchen. She smiled softly, “Can’t sleep?”

Virgil nodded.

“The bad dream again?”

He nodded once more.

She shook her head absently, “It’s really late. You should know by now, that the dreams aren’t real. Monsters aren’t real, dear.”

Virgil looked down at the kitchen tile, feeling ashamed. He only aimed to please his mother. He hated being cowardly and disappointing her.

“I know. I just decided to make some hot chocolate to help me sleep” he said sheepishly.

She fixed her gaze on him, her light gray eyes searching his face. For what, Virgil did not know.

“Make sure you don’t wake up your father. You know how he doesn’t like you wandering the house at night.”

“I know” he whispered.

Satisfied with that answer, she retreated back to her room. He watched her disappear up the staircase and he held back the urge to call her back down. The urge to beg her to stay and comfort him like she used to. Virgil bit his lip as silent tears slipped down his face. Gone were the bedtime stories. Gone was the warmth of his mother’s hugs.

Gone.

The last “I love you” uttered before the visions began. Virgil feared he would never hear those words spoken to him again.

 

For who could ever love a mistake like him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. A Chance Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil meets a boy who accepts him despite his weird abilities. In fact, the boy has a secret of his own. Too bad Virgil's dad isn't as accepting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: slight food mention, ghosts, swearing, yelling, child abuse, physical abuse, and homophobia

Virgil stared at his bedside clock with bloodshot eyes. 7 am.

His father would be leaving for work soon.

Virgil sat up in bed expectantly, he held his blanket over his shoulders and stared at the bedroom door apprehensively.

A sudden and loud banging on the other side of the door made Virgil shudder even though he had been expecting it.

“GET UP YOU LAZY LITTLE SHIT,” his father bellowed as he pounded at the door.

The walls seemed to shake as Virgil whimpered slightly and clutched tightly at his covers for comfort.

The noise began to die down and Virgil only found the courage to move after he heard the footsteps receding down the hallway. He got out of bed, still grasping his blanket close to his body as he peered out the window. He watched his father’s car pull out of the driveway and let out a sigh of relief.

It was always the same routine every morning and Virgil was never sure why. It seemed his father's day did not begin until he scared his son shitless. Needless to say, Virgil was _not_ a morning person.

The anxious child padded downstairs to find his mother brewing a cup of coffee, “Hey, sweetie.”

“Hi, mom.” he said cautiously.

He moved to make himself a bowl of oatmeal.

“You think you can make a bowl for me? I forgot to eat yesterday.” she said sheepishly before heading to the couch and flipping on the television.

“Sure thing” Virgil muttered.

He made two bowls of cinnamon-flavored oatmeal and went to sit down on the couch beside his mom. She took it gratefully and began munching thoughtfully. A soap opera played on the TV. Virgil regarded the screen with boredom.

“How do you feel about going to the mall today?”

Virgil glanced at her in surprise, “The mall?”

“Yeah, you’re looking a bit pale. A young kid like you should be going out on weekends and playing with kids your own age, right?” she stirred her food a bit nervously, “Besides, I could use a break from cleaning this house.”

Virgil thought about the dirty dishes stacked up in the sink and the ever-growing laundry pile by the washing machine, but decided not to comment on that. Instead, he forced a smile on his face and nodded hopefully.

“I’d like that.”

She smiled back at him, “Go get dressed once you’re finished with breakfast.”

* * *

 

 

The mall was pretty crowded and that made Virgil a bit nervous, but it was the first time in months that his mother had taken him anywhere with her and he didn't get out of the house often since he was home schooled. He was determined not to ruin it.

“What store are we going to?” he questioned.

“Where would you like to go?”

Virgil surveyed his surroundings, trying to get a good look at the stores around them until one of them caught his interest. He pointed.

“There?” his mother frowned.

He nodded.

She lightly laughed, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a strange kid.”

He didn’t really know what to say to that. He worried that he had somehow made a wrong decision as they headed to the store with the spiky black lettering that read _Hot Topic_.

But Virgil was momentarily distracted from his worries as he gazed at the store’s eclectic merchandise, and he found himself inadvertently humming along to the music in the store as he watched the other customers with growing fascination. He was immediately drawn to their unique sense of fashion, which seemed to be an unlikely mixture of darkness and easy carelessness that simultaneously gave the impression of someone independent and rebellious. Someone meant to be taken seriously. It was a style that elicited both fear and envy within Virgil.

 _They seem strong_ , he thought with jealousy before turning to shuffle through the racks of clothing.

“Find anything that catches your interest?” his mom enquired.

Virgil held out a purple and black plaid hoodie that was two-sizes too big for him. He liked the feel of the fabric, it reminded him of his blanket back at home.

“A bit too big for you, but I suppose you’ll grow into it.” she smiled.

He browsed a bit more, spotting dark eyeshadow and black nail polish. Virgil bit his lip, wondering if his parents would approve of him wearing makeup.

His mother looked down at Virgil who had tentatively tugged at her sleeve. “What is it, dear?”

“Uh, is--are these alright?” he asked, holding out the makeup self-consciously.

“I’m not really sure your father would approve.”

She noticed his crestfallen look and her heart melted a bit.

“Well, maybe it’ll be okay. Just--don’t let him see. Alright?”

His face lit up a bit and Virgil quickly nodded in agreement.

They purchased the jacket, the eyeshadow, the nail polish, and a few interesting CDs. Virgil immediately put the hoodie on over his t-shirt, loving the soft interior. He pulled the baggy sleeves up over his hands and flapped like a flightless bird, making his mom giggle.

They went to a few other stores after that, mostly for his mom’s benefit. She spent hours browsing the sale’s racks. Virgil tried not to complain, but his stomach began to rumble in protest. It was about 3pm when they finally left the mall and drove to a burger place before heading to the park.

They sat together on a park bench and ate their meals in comfortable silence as they watched the other kids on the playground.

“You should go play” his mother said.

“What?”

She nodded towards the playground, “You need to be more social. Make some friends. Maybe….maybe it’ll help with your anxiety.”

Virgil quickly shook his head, “No, I really doubt it….I don’t think I can anyways.”

“Virgil. Please. Do it for me?”

He looked up into her tired, hopeful eyes and slowly nodded in resignation. He had to at least try.

"Just be friendly and polite, okay? I'll be here. I just have to make a few phone calls, so take your time and have fun."

So Virgil tried his best to appear casual and confident as he strolled over to the playground monkey bars, but he knew he probably just looked foolish. He was seriously lacking in social skills. 

“H--hi, I’m Virgil,” he said to a group of boys.

One of the bigger boys stared at Virgil and his oversized jacket before sneering at him, “What do you want?”

“I just--I was wondering if maybe I could play with you guys?” Virgil asked with uncertainty.

The older-looking boy shook his head, “No. You can’t play with us. You look weird.”

Some of the kids in the group snickered and Virgil struggled to maintain his composure.

“....But how? I mean, why?”

_Great. Nice going, Virge. Now you just sound desperate and stupid._

“You’re so scrawny. You look like a toothpick in an oversized tablecloth,” the kid chuckled to himself, “Like what are you even wearing? Don’t you know purple‘s a girl color?”

Virgil’s face reddened and he backed away from the group as they all started to laugh. As he took a step back, he accidentally bumped into a girl with braided hair.

“Oh, sorr--”

“Watch it, klutz!”

He stumbled over his feet and fell, obnoxious laughter ringing in his ears. He was completely mortified. He had no hope of ever being a normal kid. He would never please his mother. She wouldn’t love him. Nobody would ever--

“Hey, are you okay?”

Virgil peered up at the owner of the voice and hastily wiped away tears with his jacket sleeve.

A kid around his age wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, a red cape, and plastic gold crown was staring at Virgil in concern.

Virgil couldn’t help but notice that the boy’s eyes were a bright, burning amber color. Almost golden.

He gasped slightly in spite of himself and the kid above him frowned.

“Are you okay? Are you in need of a healer?” the boy asked.

Virgil shook his head, “I--I’m alright.”

“Oh, good,” he sighed with relief before holding out a hand to help the other up. “I’m Roman, by the way. And don’t listen to those dimwits over there, purple is a great color and it looks good on you.” he smiled.

The anxious child eyed the boy’s hand skeptically.

Roman withdrew his hand, a bit uncertain. “I mean you no harm. Me and my fair companion are simply here to help the downtrodden.”

Virgil stared in puzzlement.

There was nobody near Roman.

“....companion?”

“Ah, yes. How rude of me. This is Princess Isabella” he gestured to the empty air beside him.

_This….it has to be a joke, right? He’s making fun of me._

Roman glanced down at Virgil’s perplexed face and dramatically sighed. “Alas, not many can see her. But trust me when I say she is real and presently among us.”

“I’m afraid I don’t believe you.”

The boy in prince-like attire appeared genuinely heartbroken by the statement. He shook his head and smiled sadly, “I understand, but at least let me help you.” He offered his hand once more, waiting for Virgil to accept it.

Despite Roman’s weirdness, Virgil decided the boy seemed sincere enough.

“I’m Virgil,” he said as he hesitantly clasped the other boy’s hand and pushed himself off the ground.

Roman pulled him to his feet, but Virgil felt an odd sensation come over him at the touch. He closed his eyes to steady himself. When he opened them again he found that the world seemed more in focus. Details were sharper, colors were brighter, and light a bit more blinding.

As his vision readjusted, he caught sight of a mysterious girl standing just behind Roman. She simply did _not_ belong in this century.

She had long reddish curls that draped over a pale blue renaissance-style dress. She stared at Virgil with dark eyes full of curiosity.

He felt a chill go down his spine.

Roman peered at Virgil’s expression, following his line of sight to the red-haired girl. “Ca--can you see Princess Isabella?”

The anxious boy struggled for words as he fought to understand this situation and its implications.

_Princess Isabella? Real not fake. Not imaginary. Unless I’ve gone crazy. Could be going crazy. Except….this Roman kid sees her too. So she’s real? But how? A ghost? Maybe….but why can I suddenly see her? Doesn’t make sense. I’m insane. First the visions….now this. No hope for me. No hope…._

Everything was suddenly shifting, the world pulsating like flickering lights of a haunted house. Virgil clutched at his head. This was too much. Too much.

And he felt a dull ache beginning at the center of his forehead. He swayed unsteadily.

“Whoa, hey! Careful!” Roman wrapped an arm around Virgil’s waist and escorted him to a bench, gently helping the anxious kid safely into the seat before sitting down beside him.

Isabella followed.

Virgil felt like he couldn’t breathe. It didn’t matter how much air he inhaled, it just wasn’t enough to fill his empty lungs.

“Virgil? ….hey, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. Just breathe.”

Roman seemed a bit unsure. A bit scared actually, but he sat down next to the other boy anyway. He hesitantly reached out and wrapped Virgil’s hand in his, humming softly to calm the other.

Virgil’s breath began to even out a bit more as he focused on the warmth of Roman’s hand and the soothing sound of his voice.

“Wh--why do stra--strange things keep happening to me?” he whispered.

Roman tilted his head in thought, “What sorta things do you mean?”

Letting out a deep sigh, Virgil wondered if this was a bad idea. He had never told anyone other than his family about the visions. And they had treated him differently ever since. Would Roman do that? The boy dressed like a prince who was friends with a ghost princess? Roman was pretty weird and had possibly seen his fair share of paranormal things, but could Virgil trust him?

He chewed his lip nervously, finally coming to a decision. If he were to tell anybody about scary premonitions of death, it would be this kid.

“I’ve seen things before this. Not ghosts, but….visions of people before--”

“Before what?”

“--before they died.”

Roman’s eyes widened in shock.

Virgil looked down at the grass, shame on his face; his shoulders hunched up, waiting to be hit or yelled at for being a curse. Or maybe Roman would simply run away, afraid that Virgil’s bad luck would rub off on him.

But what the boy did next astonished him.

Roman _hugged_ him.

He hugged Virgil, pulling him in close and resting his head on the anxious one’s shoulder.

“That sounds _awful_. I’m sorry you have to go through that, but I also feel bad. I feel bad because I’m a bit happy. I’m happy that I’ve found you. You’re the only one who might actually understand me. You’re the only friend that’s still among the living.”

Virgil could feel warm tears falling onto his shoulder. He wasn’t quite certain how to respond to this; he was still bewildered at such a display of affection. Not only had Roman accepted him, but he had also called him his friend.

 _Friend?_ Virgil’s clouded, confused brain asked.

His arms awkwardly wrapped around Roman, finally returning the embrace. And it was nice. It was warm and comforting. It was something he had been wanting for so long. When was the last time anyone had shown him such affection?

Yes. Virgil could definitely get used to having a friend as nice as Roman. In that moment, he wanted nothing more. In that moment, it hardly mattered that his father hated him or that his mother was taking antidepressants because of him. It didn’t matter that the horrible things that he saw would forever be etched in his memory. No, nothing mattered as long as he had a friend.

The embrace ended all too soon.

Roman was drying his eyes and clearing his throat, looking a bit embarrassed at his sudden display of emotions.

“Umm, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, Virge. I just….I’ve never met anyone quite like you and I got a little excited is all.”

Virgil gave him a reassuring smile, “No, trust me. It’s fine. I’ve never met anyone like you either.”

They regarded one another in silence for a minute before Virgil found his voice again. “So….are we gonna ignore the ghost in the room or what?”

Roman grinned, ”Ha! That joke only works if we’re inside a building, silly. But yes, I shall let you properly meet her.”

As if on cue, the ghost from earlier drew nearer to them. She had been keeping a decent distance away from them up until now.

“Greetings, valiant one,” she deeply curtsied.

Her voice was not at all what he had expected. Honestly, it sounded relatively normal. _But 'valiant'? Definitely not the right word to describe him...._

“How is it possible that I can hear and see you when I couldn’t before?” he asked.

Roman nodded, “I was wondering the same thing.”

Isabella scrutinized Virgil, he shrank back slightly under her gaze.

“My apologies, I was simply studying thy energy field.”

“My energy field?”

“Aye. I believe some call it an aura. It is an energy signature that every entity has. Each one is as unique as its owner. I can see them because I am a spirit and therefore, vibrating on a different frequency. Although, some of the living are gifted,” she explained.

“Umm, okay. How does that tell you how I can see you though?”

“People with abilities such as thine have a thicker energy field. The colors also tend to be different. I can tell just by looking at thee, that thou hast strong and jarring premonitions. However, they only seem to be about people close to thee. Something bad usually. It has to be someone thou hast come in contact with physically, I think….Oh. When Prince Roman helped thee up! That was when initial contact was made and that must have resulted in a temporary psychic connection!”

Roman seemed slightly disappointed, “Temporary?”

Isabella glanced at him in concern, her tone softening. “Aye, Prince. However, with every touch, thy abilities shall allow him to see me. Psychics can share energy sometimes and it seems that that is very true in thy case.”

“But for how long?” Virgil asked with mild worry. He didn’t want to get home and see the ghosts of everyone he had watched die. That would just tear him apart.

“Approximately an hour.”

Virgil sighed in relief.

“Does thee not wish to spend time with me?” Isabella enquired.

Roman watched with a pained expression, “Oh, I didn’t even think about….Virgil, this whole situation probably makes you uncomfortable. I--I totally understand if you think this is really creepy or if you think I’m a freak or--”

“No! Of course not, Roman! I really like spending time with you and Isabella.”

“You do?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Virgil said firmly with no room for argument.

Isabella crossed her arms and smiled. “That is pleasing to hear. For future reference though, I am _Princess_ Isabella,” the ghost girl corrected, “And I do believe he prefers the title of _Prince_ Roman.”

“Okay, Princess,” Virgil laughed, bowing to Princess Isabella.

He then turned to Prince Roman and bowed, “I would never think of you as a freak, Prince Roman. You are the first person to accept who I am and I will never be able to repay you for such a debt.”

The Prince’s mouth curved upwards as he moved to bow back to Virgil.

“Why are you bowing to _me_ when _you’re_ the so-called Prince?”

“Because _you_ are a knight. I can tell. Besides, I am also indebted to you for accepting me.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow, looking at him incredulously. “....a knight?”

“Yup. Sir Virgil!”

“Yeah right, Princey,” he rolled his eyes, but smirked.

“Hey, that is not my title! It’s Prince Roman, not ‘Princey.’”

“Aw, come on. It’s simply not fair. Your name is too much of a mouthful.”

Roman let out a dramatic exasperated sigh, “Fiiine, but you’re the only one allowed to call me that.”

Isabella interjected, “Do _not_ think thee can get away with something like that for me, knight! I shall only allow the title of ‘Princess’ or ‘Princess Bella.’”

The knight only grinned in reply.

What a strange day it was turning out to be, but Virgil didn’t really mind. In fact, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“Virgil! Virgil, where are you?” his mother’s voice called from a distance.

He turned to Roman, “That’s my mom. Sounds like we’re ready to leave, but we should hang out sometime soon.”

“Here’s my number” Roman said, handing him a slip of paper.

“Thanks, Princey. I’ll see ya around.”

Roman and Isabella waved. The ghost calling, “Fare-thee-well, oh valiant knight! Do not despair, for we shall meet again.”

“Uh, what she said,” Roman laughed.

 

“Oh, there you are! You’re supposed to stay where I can see you, sweetie. I was worried I had lost you.”

Virgil felt a bit guilty about that, “Sorry, mom. I was just--I was talking to a friend.”

“You made a friend! Really? That’s wonderful news. What’s their name?”

“His name is Roman.”

“Did you get his contact information, so you could schedule a playdate?”

“Yep.”

“Great,” she beamed, “I can’t wait to tell your dad, he’ll be so proud.”

“Uhh….”

“What’s wrong?”

_Please don’t do that. Please don’t tell him. He’s not gonna be proud of me. He’s just not._

“Do we have to tell him?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t we?”

_Because my new friend can see dead people and is totally aware that I can see the death of living people. I might be exaggerating here, but I have a feeling that father won’t approve._

“I--I don’t know.”

His mother placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine.” she told him.

He nodded, knowing with perfect certainty that things were not going to be fine; nothing ever was.

* * *

 

 

His father arrived home around dinnertime, looking angry and tired. This appearance, of course, was not unusual for his dad. Virgil could not recall a time his father had ever been cheerful. He seemed to be in an ever-present state of annoyance that was only slightly alleviated by insulting Virge.

“What the fuck is the kid wearing?”

Virgil’s mother glanced up from where she had been cooking dinner, “We went shopping today.”

“Where?”

“The mall.”

He scoffed, “And you couldn’t get him anything better than a stupid purple jacket?”

“He liked it. What’s wrong with that?” she frowned.

Ignoring the question, his father turned to Virgil. “Why the hell would you pick that ugly thing? Just look at the color.”

“What’s wrong with purple?” his mom asked innocently.

He whirled around, staring at his wife as if the problem were obvious. “Our son looks like a fucking faggot! Next thing ya know, he’s gonna be wearing makeup and high heels!”

“Honey, it’s just a jacket and he’s only 10 years old. I don’t know why you're--”

“I didn’t raise no little girl.” he hissed back. “He’s wimpy enough as is. I mean, just look at that pathetic freak. Disaster follows him everywhere. He’s a curse. Just a damn curse!”

Virgil sat at the table, avoiding eye contact with either of his parents. He was fiddling with the strings of his hoodie and trying to block out the words, but their voices were getting louder.

“Well, your curse made a friend at the park today. I should think that’ll make you at least a little happy.”

“Made a friend, did he? You sure that this ‘friend’ wasn’t imaginary? Perhaps his ‘friend’ is just some old pedophile that thought--”

“That is enough!” his mom turned from the stove, glaring daggers. “It is bad enough that you cuss like a sailor around him.”

“He’s got to learn about it sometime.”

“Just stop. Okay? Just stop.”

His father narrowed his eyes, “You think you know what’s best for this family? You think that that kid’s well-being is better than mine? Than yours?”

Tears were forming in her eyes, “Why is everything such a competition to you? He’s family. We’re _family_.”

“THAT THING IS NOT FAMILY! HE IS NOT MY SON, HE’S A FUCKING DEMON!”

Virgil was shaking uncontrollably now.

_Oh god, not again. Please, not again._

And then it happened.

Virgil was pushed out of his chair with so much force that he fell onto the floor. He sobbed, hiding his face in the crook of his arm.

“GET UP!” his father screamed and kicked him in the stomach, making him whimper. He shakily pushed himself up, forcing himself to look up at his tormentor.

A mistake.

“DON’T YOU DARE LOOK AT ME WITH THOSE DEMON EYES.”

A bruised eye and more tears.

Voice quivering, “I’m no--not a demon!”

“YOU’RE EVIL.”

A bloody nose.

“A GODDAMN ABOMINATION.”

A sore jaw.

His father let out a huff of air, pulling Virgil up by his shirt.

“If you _ever_ tell me about the end, you better believe that that will be the day you realize exactly how you’re gonna meet yours.”

Virgil nodded mutely before his father shoved him away.

“Now go to your room. Your mother and I need to talk in private” he said, glancing at his wife who was sitting on the kitchen floor sobbing into her hands.

Virgil did not have to be told twice.

He stumbled up the stairs, hurriedly making his way to his room. He shut his bedroom door tightly behind him before leaning against it in exhaustion.

Virgil slowly let himself sink to the floor, his fists clenching and unclenching as tears dripped onto the carpet beneath him. He closed his eyes, muscles still tense. Still ready for a beating. Still ready for a fight.

_Why though? It’s not like I can fight back. Not like I should anyways. He’s right, I’m a demon. A cowardly, no-good demon._

He heard a loud crash downstairs and jumped at the sudden sound. It was followed by muffled shouts from the kitchen.

Virgil lifted his hood up over his head in an attempt to drown out the unpleasant noises. Where were his headphones when he needed them?

_The problem is you, always you. You're evil._

_But....Roman didn't think so._

_Roman...._

 

Just that one name made Virgil feel a little more calm. Remembering the slip of paper from earlier, he dug it out of his pocket and read over the fancy cursive writing. **_Prince Roman Aurelius: (352)-424-1989_**

_Huh. So his last name is Aurelius. Makes sense, I guess. A fancy name for the boy who fancies himself a prince._

Virgil concentrated on the number, making a great effort to commit it to memory just in case he ever lost it. It also gave him something to focus on and provided a decent distraction from the pain he felt in his body.

Eventually, he found the strength to move himself from the door and make his way to his bed, curling up underneath a pile of blankets.

Warm. Safe. Alone.

Always alone.

 

He kept on repeating the numbers in his head, afraid that if he stopped, he would fall asleep. He didn’t want to fall asleep. Sleep meant dreams. And all his dreams inevitably turned into nightmares.

So he kept repeating the numbers. 352….42….4….(yawn)....1….9….

_Don't fall asleep. Fight it. Stay awake. Stay awake...._

He fell asleep.

* * *

 

 

_"Hello? Is anyone there?"_

The voice sounded familiar, but it definitely wasn’t the monster.

Virgil glanced around, realizing with relief that he actually wasn’t in his nightmare. It was different.

The surroundings were not much more comforting than a nightmare though. Thick cloud-like mist surrounded him and shadows shifted eerily.

_"Please. I--I don’t want to be alone."_

Virgil moved blindly forward to follow the sound, opening his mouth to call out, but the words didn’t come. It dawned on him that the voice hadn’t been audible. He’d been hearing it in his mind.

Maybe if he just….thought it? Like telepathy?

So he closed his eyes and concentrated on sending a message.

_"I’m here. Where are you?"_

_"Just follow my voice and you should see me. I--I’m glowing."_

Wait what? Glowing? Virgil looked down at his hands to discover a silver light emanating from his form.

Strange.

Then he glimpsed the other person.

Roman.

A soft golden light against inky darkness.

_"Virgil! Oh, I’m so glad it’s you!"_

The prince wrapped Virgil in his arms, and Virgil could feel the frantic racing of the other’s heartbeat.

_"Hey, you okay? What is this place?"_

Roman let go enough to look Virgil in the eyes.  _"The astral plane."_

_"The what?"_

_"It’s a place where spirits reside sometimes. They use it as a mode of travel. That’s what my friends tell me anyway."_

Virgil looked at him in alarm, _"Are we dead?!"_

_"No, no of course not! Don’t worry, this happens to me….a lot."_

Oh. Virgil calmed a bit.

_"But then, how are we here?"_

Roman stared at the ground sheepishly, _"It’s kind of a side effect of my--my ability, I guess. I don’t know really. Sometimes I can control it and visit people I want to see, but….sometimes I se--see spirits that I don’t--I don’t want to. Sometimes **they** control it."_

He visibly shuddered and Virgil noticed the fear that came across the Prince’s face.

_"Well, I’m glad to be here."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah, sure beats my nightmares."_

Roman chuckled lightly, _"At least nightmares aren’t real."_

_"Not yet."_

_"Oh….sorry."_

_"It’s okay."_

They sat down together, eyeing the shifting shadows warily.

_"What do you usually do if nobody appears?"_

_"No--nothing. The shadows start to whisper when I have no one to talk to…."_

_"Uh, maybe we can talk about something else?"_

_"Right. So….who hit you?"_

Virgil was taken aback. _"What?"_

_"You have a black eye."_

Oh.

_"I….um, I fell."_

_"....Virge…._ _earthly wounds don’t translate here. The only ones that are visible in the spirit realm, are the ones that have scarred our souls."_

Damn.

_"My--my father. He thinks I’m evil."_

Roman nodded solemnly. _"Mine too."_

_"Do you….think they’re right? I mean, this isn’t normal."_

_"I don’t think so. I’ve seen evil before."_

_"I think I have too."_

_"But why us, Virge?"_

_"I don’t know. It’s not fair."_

_"Isabella tells me it’s because some people have a different purpose. A destiny that others can’t even begin to understand. She says the pain is worth it sometimes. I really hope she’s right about that."_

_"How did you two meet?"_

_"I’ve known her for as long as I can remember. For longer than this life, I think. She says she was my little sister in a past life."_

_"Wow. So you’re like….really a prince then?"_

Roman laughed, a heart-warming sound that made Virgil smile.

_"You know….I wouldn’t let it go even if I had a choice. My abnormality has allowed me to stay with my little sister and it has also led me to you."_

Virgil wondered how Roman could be so sure. Normal seemed good. Normal seemed safe. Yet….Roman was the nicest person he had ever met.

_"I can be myself around you. But how long do you think we can meet like this without there being….consequences?"_

_"I don’t care about the consequences. I won’t leave you. Not ever,"_ Roman put his hand over his heart and promised.

And those words provided Virgil with some much needed peace of mind. There was a kind of relief in knowing you had someone to rely on always.

_"I promise too. We’ll always be in each others lives."_

 

Only one of them would keep that promise.


	4. Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the life of Roman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: ghosts, suicide mention, some swearing, bullying.

Roman was awakened by a slight chill at the nape of his neck. It was the kind of chill that sent shivers up and down your spine and made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

He rolled over and curled up, pulling the bedcovers tightly around him.

It had been such a nice night and he felt untroubled. Rather happy, actually. Because for once in his life, he had a friend. Not to say that Isabella wasn’t his friend, but she was nothing like Virgil. Virgil was alive. Here, in the same century as him. Not only was he living, but he was _different_. He was like Roman.

Even if Virge hadn’t been different, Roman knew he would still want to be his friend. There was a deep complexity hidden in those stormy, gray eyes and he couldn’t help but be intrigued by it. He had a feeling that they had a lot more in common than they knew.

The young prince smiled sleepily, wondering if his newfound friend was still asleep. Wondering if he could find him in the astral realm again if he tried. But just as Roman had decided that another few minutes of sleep couldn’t hurt, his blankets were violently ripped away from him.

He looked up from his bed in bewilderment, searching the room for the source of the disturbance. His eyes found a bright red orb hovering in a corner; the longer he stared at it, the more it grew. A recognizable face forming as features became more defined.

“Mom,” he breathed.

 

She gave a slight nod in greeting, but remained silent.

She was always silent.

Roman wasn’t sure why.

All the other spirits that revealed themselves to him were able to speak, yet she didn’t seem to be able to. This frustrated Roman to no end.

While she was a comforting presence, her appearance usually meant trouble for some reason. It was like his mom knew when things were about to go wrong in his life. Perhaps she came to warn him or maybe she simply came to offer reassurance when he needed it most.

It didn’t make much sense for her to be here now. Roman felt perfectly fine at the moment. Unless....

“Something bad going to happen?” he asked, holding his breath.

She hesitated before nodding, a palpable sadness in her eyes.

“Please talk to me.”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that she was holding back tears. That was impossible though. Ghosts can’t cry, can they? Unfortunately, _he_ could cry whether he wanted to or not.

He always did.

“Mommy, please.”

But she was already fading in and out. Her mouth opened, forming Roman’s name. Then she was gone.

 

Good mood ruined, he screamed into his pillow with dismay, clutching it close to him and wishing vehemently to be held and comforted.

* * *

 

It was quite a while before Roman brought himself to check the time. He would have to get ready for school soon and he knew Princess Isabella wouldn’t be able to accompany him. He had forbade her to show up when people were around, which meant she would have to wait ‘till after school to see him. She also tended to roam around, visiting others at about this time. The people she visited usually couldn’t see her of course, but she told Roman how she often missed friends and family from life. Some of them were still among the dead though, and she rejoiced that she could talk to them on a daily basis.

The prince sighed and moved to the window, pushing the curtains aside to see what kind of morning he had to face today. He peered out of the glass pane, squinting his eyes to get a better glimpse of what lay beyond the thick fog that heavily blanketed his front yard. The mist was too heavy, the dark outline of gnarled trees being the only objects visible within the grayness of the dawn.

Well, that did nothing to ease the feeling of impending doom.

 _Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways because I can do this. I’ve already seen so many unpleasant things and dad says that facing fears makes a man….so I can do this,_ he thought with determination.

He began readying himself for the school day, opening his drawers and pulling out his hated football uniform. He had practice after school today, but he’d probably skip out on it if his father wasn’t going to come and watch.

Roman did _not_ like sports. The other kids made fun of him because they knew he’d much rather be somewhere else. And one’s social status also tended to drop when you talked to yourself and claimed to see ghosts. Yeah...that had been a huge mistake, but he had been too young and naive to know any better. How was he to know that most people didn’t introduce their dead friends to the living ones? Too bad he couldn’t start over and make things right. It was too late to alter their initial impressions of him. Much too late now. They already knew his secret and they thought he was crazy for it.

Roman quietly shut the front door behind him, careful not to wake his dad. He slung his backpack over his shoulders and reluctantly made his way to school. He hummed a Disney song and surveyed the morning sky, a spark of persistence and hope set in his eyes.

_Things are going to be fine. I have a new friend now. School sucks and I hate sports, but it could be worse. I’m not gonna let it get worse._

He stopped walking.

_Oh, not this again._

A body hung limply above him in a tree. It slowly turned in the air, eventually revealing the ashen face of a young man.

Roman forced himself to look away and keep walking despite the unbidden shiver that wracked his body. He knew that what he was seeing was no longer present, just a residual haunting site. At the very least, he had come upon the negative scene at its end. He wasn’t always so fortunate though; sometimes he would see the man preparing the noose and slipping it over his head, a sickening sound of something snapping would fill Roman’s unwilling ears as the man let go. A sense of sorrow overtaking his being.

 _Stop,_ Roman scolded himself. _Don’t think about it. You’re only gonna make it worse._

The young prince deviated from the sidewalk, walking around the scene that was only visible to him and no one else, trying his best to focus on nothing but the asphalt beneath his feet.

Roman let out a breath as he made it past the negative energies of that area.

Residual hauntings were different from normal spirits because they weren’t really spirits at all. They were particularly powerful memories that were constantly on replay due to the strong emotional energies linked to it.

Over time, Roman had learned that there were different types of ghosts and hauntings. He came to this realization after some displeasing encounters with a variety of strange figures; Isabella had helped him with identifying some of them, the rest of his knowledge was gathered from online articles.

First, there were the orbs. There wasn’t a lot of information on what kind of spirits they were. Roman did, however, find that each color had a certain meaning attached to them. Red or orange was thought to represent the role of protector. Or in his mind, it was the color that had come to symbolize his mom….

The second kind of ghost was probably the most well-known, called the interactive personality (a.k.a. phantoms). That was what Isabella was. She retained her personality and memories, and she was able to visit as she so pleased.

The third kind were known as poltergeists, able to manipulate the physical world.

Then there was the fourth one which didn’t really qualify as a ghost, but was just residual energy of a major event on repeat.

Then there were entities known as shadow people and nobody really seemed to know what they wanted, though they occasionally terrorized the living.

The last type fell into the category of demons. Roman hated how powerless he felt in the presence of them. He would watch helplessly as beings he learned were called “etheric revenants” fed off of people’s life energy. Some of the living seemed to be more susceptible to them, maybe because they had abundant amounts of life force. He had often tried to warn these people, but that would inevitably end badly for him. Who‘s going to listen to a little kid that tells them that the reason for their sickness, bad luck, anxiety, or depression is due to a dark figure slowly eating away at their energy?

_What’s the point of being able to see them, if you can’t stop them?_

Roman kicked a rock in exasperation, stuck in a whirlwind of thoughts.

_There has to be a reason for this. Some purpose. I can’t just have this ability, this feeling for no reason at all. There has to be more people in this world who can actually relate to these--these emotions. More than Virgil and me. We can’t possibly be alone in this. There has to be others…._

His thoughts were interrupted as he rounded the corner and came closer to his school, the street more alive and bustling due to the early morning rush. There were a few other kids idling along on the sidewalk with their friends, looking slightly tired and bored. Their demeanor changed when they spotted Roman. Some of them moved to avoid him, fear creeping up on their faces. Others perked up at the sight of him, sneering with pleasure at the prospect of messing with the freak before them.

“Hey, mutant!” one of them shouted.

Roman carefully avoided eye contact, making an effort to walk past the group without incident.

“Hey! Look at me, I’m talking to you! Are you still on this planet, weirdo?” The boy blocked Roman’s path, impatiently awaiting a reply.

The prince gave in and glared into the eyes of his antagonist. He recognized the kid from class as Calvin.

“What do you want?” Roman grumbled.

“Aw, why are you being so defensive? I just want to talk about you and your ghosties.”

“Sure you do,” he said sarcastically.

A look of anger crossed Calvin’s face at his tone of voice, “You like dead things, right?”

He stared back in surprise, answering apprehensively, “No, why would you--”

“Don’t lie, princess. It just makes you more pathetic,” Calvin said in a mocking tone.

Roman scowled at the nickname, but kept his lips sealed. He refused to let the other kid see how much his words truly hurt.

“We found a dead dog over by the railroad tracks, you want to see it? It’s still fresh, I bet its ghost is still lingering over there all confused and stuff. Think of it as my gift to you, a new pet.” The kid chuckled as if he had made the greatest joke in the world. His group of friends who were listening in with interest, began to laugh. Roman paled.

Another kid from the crowd yelled at him, “What? Does ghost boy not like that?”

“Nah, he likes it. It’s the only way he can make friends. Nobody living really cares about him. That’s why he killed his mom the day he was born, she wouldn’t have loved him otherwise.”

Something within him snapped in that instant and without thinking, Roman took a step forward and let his fist collide with Calvin’s jaw.

For a moment, the circle of kids fell into a shocked silence before someone excitedly yelled “Fight!”

And that was all it took.

The chants seemed to renew Calvin’s sense of confidence as he grew more aware of who had just hit him and why. He grinned as if this had all been planned. “Did I strike a nerve, princess?”

_Oh crap._

Calvin was slightly taller than Roman. Not only that, but the crowd was on his side.

Roman was shoved roughly to the ground, his hands skidding against the asphalt painfully.

“Pathetic. Really, is that all you’ve got?” the boy above him taunted. He tried to get up, but was pushed back down by a heavy foot hitting his chest. Next thing he knew, a fist was coming toward his face with unstoppable speed.

“Where are your ghosts? Maybe they don’t really love you either? Must be a really messed up afterlife if you’re the only one to talk to.” He looked ready to strike Roman again, but something knocked Calvin down. The confusion was evident on the boy’s face. “Wha--”

Leaves began to dance in the wind, forming tiny cyclones as they sometimes do on windy autumn days. Except, it hadn’t been windy today. Not at all.

Calvin scrambled up, uncertainly looking at Roman. He pointed a shaky finger at him, “Y--you’re not human.”

The words stung, but the prince forced a wicked grin in the boy’s direction. Calvin backed away and some of the other kids in the group stepped forward, wrapping their arms around him in a protective gesture.

The group began walking away, leaving Roman alone on the ground. He lay there for a moment in thoughtful silence.

Why so much hate? He didn’t bother anyone unless they bothered him, yet they went out of their way to hurt him and it wasn’t even the punches or kicks that hurt. It was the words. The venomous words spat at him. The way they ridiculed him. The way they glared at him with contempt, and it was all for no reason other than the fact that he existed.

Roman stayed on the ground, exhausted and miserable. The day had just begun and he already wanted to go home and curl up in bed.

 

A face appeared above him, “Need help?”

Isabella.

The prince gave a small smile, “You know my hand will just slip through yours, but thanks for the offer. I can get up. I’m just not sure I want to is all.”

There were still a few people loitering around campus before the bell rang, casting suspicious glances his way. But it hardly mattered at this point. The ghost princess frowned, “If only they knew who they were dealing with.”

“You shouldn’t have done that, you know. I didn’t ask for your help and now they’re just gonna hate me even more.” She shook her head angrily, “Something needed to be done. A royal such as thyself should be respected. Those pillocks should not be allowed to speak that way.”

“Yeah, well I’m not a prince. Not in this lifetime.”

“Once royalty, always royalty. Besides, thy art more than a prince. Thy art a knight. Brave and wise, thou hast faced greater terrors than they could ever imagine.”

“Doesn’t matter. It would be better if I were normal.”

“Balderdash!”

He shook his head in amusement, “Too archaic again, sis.”

“Oh, sorry. What would be a proper substitute for the term ‘balderdash’?”

“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, then I believe the word ‘nonsense’ is what you mean.”

“Ah, yes. Trying to be normal to please others is utter nonsense,” she corrected.

The prince still wasn’t convinced. “I know you mean well, but my life really would be easier if I just pretended.” She huffed in disapproval, “What about the valiant one? Has he not become thy friend despite thy lack of normalcy?”

“You mean Virgil? He’s a lot like me though. Meeting him was an entirely different situation.”

“No, ‘twas not. Thou would not have known about the knight’s secret, if thee had not revealed me as a friend.”

“He might’ve still told me.”

She raised her eyebrows and smirked, “Oh, really?”

“You know….for a younger sibling, you sure are bossy.” Isabella laughed at that, and Roman couldn’t help but smile. He loved his sister. Death could never change that.

“I have to be bossy. Thou dost not remember that they have already won many a battle. I have to be the reminder.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully, “I suppose I am like the older sibling within this lifetime.”

“Bella….you’re the best sister a prince could ever ask for,” Roman gave a lopsided smile.

Her lips quirked upward, “And you’re the best brother, Ro. But ‘tis time for thee to rise again and journey into that dreadful-building-of-meanfolk-who-believe-they-know-it-all.”

He tilted his head, “You mean school?”

“Yes. I’ve attended a few classes and the history lessons weren’t all that impressive. I do, however, enjoy science. Now, that’s quite fascinating.”

He chuckled, pushing himself up off the floor and wincing slightly at the soreness he felt in his body. His sister’s expression hardened, “I really wish there were something I could do to make those churlish, clod-brained canker-blossoms pay!”

“While I love your weird way of insulting people, you really should attend a modern English class….avoid the Shakespearean lessons though. You might become even more confusing, if that’s even possible.”

“Or perhaps, thou should simply study his Shakespeare,” she suggested.

Roman rolled his eyes, but was already beginning to feel a bit better. Checking his watch, he realized he was about ten minutes late for class. “I better get going. I can’t get detention again or dad is gonna ban me from watching TV. I’ll try and get out of football practice but if not, I’ll see you later back at home.”

They waved goodbye to each other, Isabella fading out of sight as the young prince gathered up his belongings and headed to class.

 

“You’re late,” his teacher, Mrs. Morris, scolded him.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“And you’re a mess.”

“I know….”

She walked away from the chalkboard, arms crossed and a stern-look on her face. “I do hope you have a good explanation for showing up late looking like that.”

Roman noticed Calvin sitting at the back of the classroom. The boy glowered back at him, quietly threatening him to stay silent about the fight. He couldn’t really tell the teacher what had happened anyway. Mrs. Morris had a bad habit of never believing a word Roman said, he was her problem student. Conversely, Calvin could do no harm in her eyes. Not only that, but Roman _had_ thrown the first punch.

“N--no, I have no explanation. Sorry, teach.”

He could’ve sworn he saw her eye twitch in annoyance. “You may call me ‘Mrs. Morris’. Now if this happens again, I’ll have no choice but to give you detention. Go take a seat, Mr. Aurelius.”

Roman hurried to a vacant seat as his teacher resumed the lesson. He could barely focus though because of a peculiar knocking noise. Nobody else seemed bothered by it. It wasn’t the first time Roman had heard this sound, but he could never find its source. It was small and repetitive, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

_Tap, tap, tap._

_Tap, tap, tap._

Then the racket would increase in volume and urgency.

_Tap, tap, THWACK--_ _tap, tap, THWACK._

Until the hammering noise would overwhelm his senses, pounding away like a pulse.

“--Roman. Roman! Are you listening?”

He shook his head as if coming out of a trance and squinted up at his teacher, who looked like she was contemplating throwing the textbook at him.

“Uh, yeah. I’m listening.” He glanced at the whiteboard behind her head, noticing that they were apparently studying the history of the renaissance and he bit back a confident smirk.

His teacher narrowed her eyes, “Fine. If you were really listening, then I suppose you’ll be able to tell the class what the word ‘renaissance’ means and why?”

Everyone in the class seemed to be waiting for Roman to embarrass himself, but he readily answered the question with detail. “Renaissance means ‘rebirth’ in French. It’s considered to have begun in Italy in the fourteenth century, and was known for being the period of time in which Greece and Rome were exerting its influence in Italy and Europe. It was mostly a time of classical learning and wisdom, but was also known for great discovery and exploration that went on until the seventeenth century.”

Mrs. Morris’ mouth dropped in shock. A curious murmur rippled through the classroom. “I--I guess you were listening….just--just try to look more attentive next time, okay?”

Roman nodded, not being able to resist the smug grin growing on his face. Sure, he had his problems but history definitely was not one of them.

 

After school, the prince walked out toward the fields behind the building. He discreetly scanned the bleachers, unfortunately finding his father sitting toward the back. He frowned. So much for skipping out on practice. Roman headed to the locker rooms to change. Coach Sutton was already there, ushering his team to hurry up and get outside. “Let’s hustle, guys! I’m counting down. If you’re not dressed and ready by the count of 1, it’s extra laps.”

Roman already knew he was going to be late, but he didn’t really care. He actually preferred running laps because it gave him time to think.

It wasn’t that he was horrible at football. He simply did not care for the sport. It was pointless to him, he’d much rather be learning sword fighting or martial arts. Something more competitive and tactful. Football took teamwork and a good portion of the team didn’t even like him. He slipped on his uniform and took his time walking outside. The team was in the middle of the field, starting jumping jacks.

“Act alive, Aurelius! Twenty jumping jacks!” Coach yelled.

Roman smirked, _Act alive he says to the boy surrounded by ghosts and death knocks._

Warm-ups were pretty typical. Jumping jacks, push ups, stretches, and laps. Not really a problem, but he could see the jealousy in his teammates’ eyes. They didn’t like how he could do things with such ease.

_Jealous of me? They’re the ones with love and support though. Doesn’t make sense…._

 

His father greeted him afterwards, “Hey, why’d you show up late to practice?”

Roman shrugged. “Just been thinking, I don’t know if this is really the sport for me.”

His dad’s face darkened a bit, “Don’t give me that again. I don’t understand your fascination with all these other hobbies. They’re not practical.”

“And football is?”

“You can get a scholarship from football.”

“I’m in sixth grade, dad,” Roman rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re good and being on a team will help you make friends.”

“I have friends.”

“You know what I mean, Roman.” His father’s tone became more hushed, “ _Real_ friends.”

“They _are_ \--”

“No. We are _not_ having this conversation here.”

“Okay, but I did meet a kid the other day at the park. His name is Virgil and he is 100% alive.”

His dad looked skeptical.

 

They walked silently to the car before his dad turned to face him again, “I heard you got into a fight again. You want to tell me what happened.”

“Oh, uh….some kid insulted me and I guess I just….”

“You punch him?”

Roman hung his head in shame, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

He glanced up at his father in surprise, “Wha--what?”

“I told you walking by yourself would help build character. Teach you to toughen up.”

“What are you talking about? I’m tough enough.” But Roman could hear his voice laced with doubt.

His father chuckled, “You think I don’t remember all those nights you’d scream at me about monsters in your closet and the darkness being evil? Seriously, you’re such a weakling.”

“I’m not weak!”

“You cry all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean--”

His dad cut him off again, “Yes, it does. Now stop acting like a girl and get in the car.”

Roman glowered, but did as he was told. They got in the car and as soon as the doors were all shut and the engine was running, his dad spoke again. “Oh and just a heads up, we’re moving.”

_“What?”_

“Yeah, Debbie got a job just a few towns away. She’s starting out as a dental assistant.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. _Moving?_

“I don’t care what Debbie wants. I want to stay here!”

“You don’t get a say in the matter.”

“But she’s _not_ my mom. I don’t want to move anywhere with her,” he pouted.

“Well, you _killed_ your real mom.”

Ouch. There it was again, the old wound reopened twice in one day. Was he ever going to be forgiven for it? Probably not, but it still hurt whenever his dad said it.

He went silent. His father glanced at him through the rear-view mirror, “Don’t give me that solemn look, you know it’s true. You took her away from me.”

“She still visits sometimes….” “Cut the crap, Roman! Stop with the fucking delusions and grow the fuck up! I like Debbie and nothing you say can change that.”

Roman pursed his lips and glared out the window.

His dad sighed, “You act like this is a bad thing. C’mon, this is your chance to start over and act normal. Exert yourself and be the leader for once.”

_Maybe--maybe he has a point._

The prince refused to meet his eyes though. “What about Virgil?” the words left him before he had a chance to properly think them through.

“Roman, I don’t care about your little ghost friends.”

“He’s _not_ a ghost!”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. You can make new friends.”

 _But I don’t want new ones,_ he thought stubbornly before sighing in acceptance. 

_At least I’ll be able to see Virgil in the astral realm…._


	5. Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman tells Virgil he's moving away. And Roman has to adjust to his new school and a new....ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: ghosts, death mention, and some lying. Yeah, Deceit makes an appearance and is gonna be complex as heck in the future. He's not exactly evil, but....*vaguely shrugs*

  
  


Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing, _ “Moving? But we only just met. We’ve only ever seen each other once in real life and now you’re telling me that the only way to communicate with you is in this dream world--” _

_ “Astral realm,”  _ Roman corrected.

_ “Whatever.” _

The prince sighed, “ _ It wasn’t my idea, it was my dad’s.  He told me everything last minute. ” _

Virgil knew it was stupid to be angry at Roman, but that didn’t lessen the panic he felt rising in him. He hadn’t even known the prince for that long, yet he felt pain at them being ripped apart from each other.

_ I’m such an idiot, I should’ve known that this was too good to be true. Not only that, but he’s the prince. The one from that dumb nightmare. I should know better. I can’t protect him and he can’t protect me,  _ Virgil let out a heavy sigh. .... _ It’s better this way….it’s better if we both go our separate ways.  _

Roman hesitantly walked over to Virgil and reached out a hand, “ _ Please forgive me. I really don’t want to lose you.” _

_ “I--I really don’t want to lose you either, especially when I just found you. B--but it’s inevitable, Ro.” _

To Roman’s disappointment, Virgil turned away from him. “ _ I’m not mad at you. I just--I just don’t….”   _

_ “What is it, V?”  _ the prince asked gently, carefully laying a hand on his shoulder.

“ _....I don’t want to be one of your ghosts.”  _ He buried his face in his hands, shuddering slightly. “ _ Not yet.” _

The prince frowned and pulled Virgil into a hug, their silver and gold energies blending.

“ _ What do you mean ‘not yet’?” _

Virgil buried his face in his shoulder and quickly mumbled out an explanation that Roman barely made sense of. 

“ _ \--gonna die young--a teenager--something wants to hurt me. I think it’s gonna go after you too. The prince, it said. And you’re the only prince I know!” _

_ “Shh, calm down. Slow down. What did you say? You--you’re gonna die young?” _

Virgil backed away slightly. He sheepishly looked at the prince before nodding in solemn affirmation.

Roman stood in shocked silence.

_ “D--do you know how?” _

Virgil shook his head,  _ “My premonitions are usually only about other people. This is the only one I’ve ever had about me.” _

_ “M--maybe it’s wrong?”  _ he asked hopefully.

_ “It doesn’t work that way.” _

_ “Well….maybe we can run away and find others like us. Maybe we can change your fate and live far away from our families! What do you think?” _

He smiled softly, “ _ Sounds like a fantasy, Princey.” _

_ “It could work!” _

_ “No, chances are I’ll die sooner and take you to the grave with me. No money, no food, no education. What you’re suggesting, only puts us both at risk of starvation. I can’t do that to you.” _

Roman’s shoulders slumped and he began pacing the area in deep thought.

“ _ Princey….” _

_ “So you die when you’re a teenager. Do you know what age though?” _

Virgil was a bit surprised by the question,  _ “Oh, um I don’t know. If I had to guess, I’d say mid to late teens. I only really have the sound of my voice to go off of….” _

_ “Okay, okay. This is doable then. We’ll just have to meet up at some point before then. Let’s say fifteen or sixteen. By then, we can both get a job and--” _

_ “You’re not giving up, are you?”  _ Virgil asked, his eyes wide in disbelief.

_ No, of course not. And you shouldn’t give up either. You have a chance, Virge! A chance to change your destiny, don’t you realize that? Maybe you don’t have to die young! Maybe it’s not a premonition, but a warning!” _

Virgil hadn’t thought of it like that before, but maybe Roman had a point. If his dad had actually listened to him when he said his cousin was in danger then maybe she’d still be alive. Maybe the future wasn’t set in stone.

For once, Virgil allowed himself a flicker of hope. 

A small smile curved his lips, “ _ I like that idea. I like it a lot. _ ”

* * *

 

 

The first rays of sunlight were making their way through the sheer curtains of Roman’s room, signaling the start of his first day at a new school in a new city.

It had been about a week since he and Virgil had had their conversation in the astral realm (or mindscape as they had agreed to call it). The prince had attempted to find the silver glow of Virgil’s aura in the mindscape multiple times, but he still had trouble traversing that place. It was a miracle he had even found the other boy again.  Roman tried not to let it discourage him though. He had found Virgil twice already and knew that comforting silvery energy like the back of his hand. He would find it again, he was sure.

For now, Roman had other things to worry about. Today was the first day back to school and it had to be perfect. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistakes he had made before. This was a new start, a new chance to make a good impression. A chance to be normal.

His dad was going to drop him off today since Roman wasn’t yet familiar with the layout of the neighborhood. He hurried to get ready, pulling out his best red button-up shirt and jeans.The prince paused as he rushed by the bedside table, the sunlight was glinting off of his mother’s old pendant.

He considered wearing it for good luck, but wondered if the other kids would make fun of him for it. Most boys didn’t wear jewelry after all. Maybe if he hid the ruby stone underneath his shirt, it would be alright. Roman clasped it around his neck, immediately feeling more calm.

  
  


The car ride was spent in silence, his father offering no advice. Roman took this as an opportunity to observe the neighborhood a bit more. 

They pulled up next to a cluster of buildings and Roman noted the different groups of students clumped together by age and style. Willowside was a school for students of all ages and it showed. It looked like chaos.

_ This might be a whole lot more difficult than I had previously thought.... _

The prince swallowed down his fear and stepped out of the vehicle without so much as a glance back at his dad, who provided no comfort anyway.

As soon as Roman was out of the car, it sped down the street and disappeared around the corner, leaving him all alone.

Roman nervously clutched the pendant he was wearing. The metal was surprisingly warm and that put him at ease. Though he didn’t see her, he felt that his mom was with him in that moment.

The bell rang to signal everyone to get to class and he hastily stashed the pendant underneath his shirt, hurrying to find his classroom. It was bad enough to be the strange new student, but even worse to come in late and have everyone stare accusingly at you.

Unfortunately, It didn’t seem to matter much as the teacher, Mr. Roth, cleared his throat and announced the arrival of a new student.

_ Please don’t tell me to introduce myself…. _

“Roman Aurelius, why don’t you come up and tell us a bit about yourself?”

_ Well, I can’t wait to see how I screw this up,  _ he thought sarcastically.

The room quieted as Roman’s classmates focused their attention on him. He glanced at his teacher for some sort of direction.

“Just tell us where you’re from and a few of your hobbies. Do you play any sports? What kind of shows do you watch? That sort of stuff,” Mr. Roth said encouragingly.

Roman nodded and mustered up the courage to speak loudly and clearly, “I’m from Gainesville, Florida. I play football, but I don’t really like it--”

“What do you like then?” his teacher interrupted.

“Uhh, I don’t know. I guess I’ve always liked singing….”

There were a few snickers from the back of the classroom and Roman’s face reddened.

“I mean I--uh,” he began to stammer and an icy chill crawled up his spine.

_ “You also like martial arts, you’re a black belt. Oh, and you like long-distance running. You’re very athletic.” _

The prince jumped slightly at the sudden voice, but nobody else seemed to hear it. He scanned the crowd, looking for the source of it.

People were looking at him curiously now….

“ _ Pssst, over here. I’m trying to help you, just repeat after me.”  _

His eyes landed on a boy in a yellow and black prep school uniform. The boy was standing by the windows in the back of the classroom, the rays of sunlight going straight through him. Another spirit.

Roman didn’t have much time to ponder this odd turn of events though. The class was getting weirded out by his silence. He had to say something.

“Uh, I really enjoy martial arts. I actually have a black belt. And--and I like long-distance running. I’m pretty athletic in my freetime.”

The kids who had laughed were now looking slightly awestruck. One of them raised their hand to ask a question.

“You have a black belt? What kind of martial arts do you do?”

“Yes, I--”

“ _ Say taekwondo or aikido or some lesser known one. It’s more believable that way,”  _ the ghost boy quickly said.

“--I practice aikido.”

The kid smiled, “Oh, that’s so cool!”

Another kid, this time a boy at the front of the class, also raised his hand.

“So what kinda things do you watch on TV?”

A bit more at ease, Roman began to answer truthfully, “Oh, I really enjoy musica-- _ mmph!” _

The ghost had rushed forward to clasp a hand over Roman’s mouth,  _ “Are you crazy? They’ll make fun of you for sure. If you want friends, you want to come off as tough and relatable all at the same time. Action and comedy, okay? That’s what normal boys your age watch.” _

He slowly moved his hand, allowing Roman to speak once more.

“Action and comedy!” he said a bit excitedly, making the other kids jump slightly.

“Uhh, okay. Me too, I guess,” the kid at the front of the classroom nodded in approval.

Roman sighed in relief as he went to take a seat, grateful for the ghost’s help. He made sure nobody was watching him before taking out a slip of paper to write on.

 

_**What is your name?** _

 

He watched in awe as an answer appeared underneath his words:

**You may call me Colton**

 

The prince replied happily:

_**Thank you for helping me, Colton. I would’ve made a fool of myself without you.** _

 

**No problem. I was a new student once. I know what it is like, but it seems you have a much greater problem than I ever had. Perhaps I can help you make friends here and in turn you will be my friend?**

 

**_I would love to be your friend :)_ **

 

**You won’t regret it :)**

  
  


The rest of the day went smoothly with Colton’s help. 

People actually approached Roman during lunch, wanting to know more about him. After talking, they told him that they would like to hang out sometime. By the time the bell rang at the end of the day, Roman was overjoyed. Things had turned out so much better than he had thought possible.

The prince was walking down the hallway to get ready to meet his new football team when Colton appeared before him.  “Hey, Roman. You want to talk a bit before your sport’s practice?”

“Sure! Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you a bit more. I’d like to get to know you, like did you go to this school? What century are you from? How did you die? ….Er--not to be rude or anything. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable with it.”

But luckily, Colton didn’t look offended by the onslaught of questions. He looked rather pleased.

“I did go to this school before. I am from this century, I only passed away about five years ago in a drunk driving mishap,” Colton said in a bored tone of voice as he stared at his fingernails.

“Oh, I’m so sorr--”

“No need for that now. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Simply a stupid mistake on my part.”

“So you were the one who was drunk? But how old are you?”

Colton was finally starting to seem a bit bothered, “I--I was sixteen and angry. I stole a bottle from my father’s cabinet and stormed out of the house. I didn’t think there’d be much traffic at three in the morning, but I was wrong.”

A heavy silence fell upon them as Roman struggled to find something to say. 

“Would you like a hug?”

Wha--what?” Colton’s eyes widened. He was truly taken aback by  _ that _ question. “You can’t hug me. I’m a  _ ghost, _ remember?

Roman smiled softly, “If your energy is strong enough, you can temporarily be solid enough to have an impact on the physical realm. And your energy obviously is strong enough because you shut me up in class earlier. Though, that was probably instinct.”

Colton’s eyes flashed with excitement, “How do I do it?”

“Just concentrate. My little sister can do it sometimes, but she doesn’t really have control over it yet. I suppose it takes practice.”

“Your little sister?” he asked in puzzlement.

“Yeah, her name is Isabella. Well,  _ Princess  _ Isabella. We were siblings in a past life.”

The ghost boy laughed, “You certainly are full of surprises, Ro. But I would certainly like to try to have more of an impact on the physical realm. It sounds like it might be fun.”

“Just try to recall what it’s like to be alive again. What it’s like to have a pulse. You draw off of the energy around you. In the earth, in the air, and in you.”

Colton closed his eyes and tried to focus, imagining that he had a heartbeat. And then he  _ felt  _ it, something low and thrumming at his very core. For a moment, it was like he could deeply breathe in the crisp, autumn air. And what was that? Flowers? Oh, they smelled like paradise. He regretted how much of it he had taken for granted when he really was alive.

He slowly opened his eyes, cautiously taking a step forward into the other boy’s awaiting arms. 

How strange to be held by someone after five years of phasing through people and objects.

Colton could sense Roman’s powerful, healthy heartbeat pounding steadily within and he felt a pang of jealousy course through him before he pulled away from the embrace.

“Th--thank you.”

“No problem,” Roman smiled warmly before looking down at his watch. “I better get going though, this is my chance to have teammates who actually like me for once.”

“Don’t worry, I can help with that. I was quite the socialite before my death,” Colton grinned.

This was, indeed, the most interesting thing that had ever happened in Colton’s afterlife.

* * *

 

 

Roman’s father had said he was proud of him. 

_ Proud. _

Words he had never thought would leave his father’s lips. 

The prince still reeling from his remarkable day at school, plopped on his bed and summoned Isabella.

She floated up from the floor abruptly, more than excited to know how it went, “Did thou make friends? What was it like? Is the science just as interesting? Is history taught more accurately there? Tell me everything!”

She drifted from wall to wall eagerly awaiting his response.

“I can only answer one question at a time,” he laughed. “It actually went really well. I made some friends!”

Isabella gasped, her eyes gleaming as she sank down next to him. “Did they accept thy ability to see spirits?”

“Uh, not exactly. I kinda left that part out.”

“What!?”

“Don’t act so shocked, you know they wouldn’t have liked me otherwise.”

She glared at him and wagged her finger in his face haughtily, “ _You_ need to have more self-worth, Roman. _You_ cannot go around lying about who you are or you are _never_ going to make any real friends.”

He gulped warily. Isabella meant business when she started using modern language. She knew that it left more of an impact. She knew he took her more seriously.

“I know lying is wrong, but it’s what my dad wants. And I’m not the victim for once. Don’t you see that, Bella?”

Sadness clouded her features, “You’re not the victim, you’re the hero.”

Roman opened his mouth, not sure what to say, but she interrupted.

“Or did you forget that, you---you dunderhead!”

He couldn’t help but smirk at the insult, “Have you been taking my advice and attending some modern-day english classes?”

“That’s none of your business,” she grumbled.

He grinned.

“You shouldn't stress so much. I'm still me and we shall still have our weekly tradition of going to the park. Things aren't going to change, I am aware that the people at school aren't the same as you and Virgil. You're my _true_ friends. I just--I'm real tired of people treating me differently. ”

"I know, I guess I can't blame thee for that. Just don't lose thyself in the lie."

"No worries," he smiled reassuringly. "Oh and I almost forgot to mention, I met another ghost at school today."

Isabella perked up at this news, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll try summoning him.” The prince shut his eyes for a moment, sending out a message:  _ Colton. _

He promptly popped up in the middle of the room and glanced around in bewilderment. 

“Where the heck--” he stopped when he spotted Roman and Isabella.  “How did I get here?” he asked.

Roman looked at him sheepishly, “Sorry, I forgot that you wouldn’t be used to being summoned.”

“Hmm, summoned? Nevermind, I’ll ask later. But who is this? Is this the sister you told me about?”

“Yup, this is Princess Isabella. Bella, this is Colton.”

She narrowed her eyes at the newcomer before her, “Pleased to meet you. I don’t suppose thou art the one encouraging my brother to lie?”

Colton raised his eyebrows, “I assure you that it’s for his own good.”

“And how dost thou know what is ‘good’ for my brother?” she asked with her hands on her hips.

“No offense, your _majesty_ ….but you are not from this time period. You have likely never faced the repercussions of being able to see what others cannot. Having lived a life of royalty, you were probably highly privileged. How can _you_ possibly know what is good for your ‘brother’?”

Bella’s eyes blazed dangerously with outrage as she scowled at Colton.

“Highly privileged says the boy in fancy modern-day attire. Preparatory school from the looks of it.”

He frowned, “How would you know that?”

“I know a lot more than you would think. I do not waste my time bemoaning my death, but rather learning. So don’t underestimate my knowledge, you charlatan.”

With that, Isabella sank out of the room, all of the lights in the house flickering erratically for a moment before going out completely.

 

Roman went to search for a flashlight as he heard Colton’s sarcastic voice from behind him, “My, isn’t she just the friendliest.”

“You shouldn’t have said what you said. She’s my sister, she’s only looking out for me. You’re a complete stranger to her. And you could’ve been a bit nicer,” Roman said. He opened his desk drawer and found the flashlight he was looking for and clicked the on button, a beam of light illuminated the dark room.

Before Colton had a chance to respond, Roman heard his father knocking at his bedroom door. “Roman? Do you have a light? I need to get down to the basement and check the breaker panel to see what’s up.”

But no sooner had his dad spoken than the power surged back on.

Roman heard a slight intake of breath on the other side of the door and then, “Nevermind.”

He listened to the receding footsteps before he turned his attention back to Colton, who was staring at the lights in awe. “How did she do that?”

Roman shrugged, “It happens sometimes when she’s angry.”

“Fascinating.”

The prince’s face contorted in confusion, “I guess.”

Then he sighed, “She’ll come around eventually. She’ll see that you’re only trying to help.”

“Will she though? She’s rather overprotective,” Colton mused.

“Bella has seen me get hurt before, she just doesn’t want to see that happen again.”

“So she’d rather see you get pummeled by a bunch of jerks at school rather than be happy with friends?”

Roman frowned at him, “No. You don’t understand what she’s witnessed. What we’ve been through together.”

“I apologize. I--I didn’t realize is all.”

“It’s okay. But I better be getting to sleep.”

Colton glanced at the clock on the table, “It’s only nine, you can’t seriously be going to bed already.”

Roman shook his head, “I need to try and talk to my friend in the astral realm.”

“Oh, another spirit? Why not summon them like you did with me.”

“Virgil’s alive, he’s just living in another town.”

Colton’s brows furrowed, “If he’s alive then why talk to him via the spirit realm? Why don’t you two call each other like normal people?”

“Virgil isn’t allowed on the phone very often. His parents are….well, his parents aren’t the greatest.”

“Ah, I see,” he nodded solemnly. “Wait….so, this Virgil knows that you can see--see dead people?”

“Yes. He’s different like me.”

“You mean he can--”

“He can’t see spirits, but he has premonitions.”

“How unfortunate for him, but don’t you think it’ll be more difficult to ‘be normal’ when you have someone constantly reminding you that you’re not.”

“Just talking to _ you _ reminds me that I’m not normal,” Roman pointed out.

“True, but having a poltergeist on your side is an advantage.”

The prince scoffed, “You’re not a poltergeist though.”

Colton grinned, “Not yet. However, I’m sure I could enhance my ghost abilities with your help.”

"Yeah, I guess. But I really should be getting to bed now. I'll see you tomorrow, Colton.

"Alright, I'll see you then," the ghost boy gave a mock bow and rolled his eyes before sinking out.

Roman closed his eyes and let himself relax.  He didn't notice the ruby pendant on his nightstand dimming from red to black like a sunset fading into darkness.


	6. Patton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess who it is!   
> ....I'm no good at summaries sometimes:p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mention of past car crash (not explicit)

Miracles were often deemed enchanting and wonderous. They were beautiful once-in-a-lifetime chances. They were the moments that made life special.

Patton had been surrounded by them his whole life. He himself was considered a miracle, yet he didn’t always feel like one.

His grandparents often marveled at his magic and the way he was always helping others with it. They said he was very wise and giving for his age, they theorized that he was an old soul.  While he loved his grandparents greatly, he often felt that he never had time to simply be a kid. They didn’t understand that his ability came with complications. Miracles weren’t random, nor were they effortless. He had a deep passion for helping people from all walks of life, but it was so very  _ draining. _

Patton knew he had no right to complain, but being a miracle was often a really lonely existence.

 

He had lived with his grandparents for as long as he could remember. After many curious questions from little Patton, they explained to him carefully and kindly that his father had not stayed with his mother long enough to know that Patton existed. And when Patton was only two years old, he was sent to live with them after his mother passed away in a car crash.

His grandparents hadn't known how unique Patton was at that time. It wasn't until Patton began talking that they noticed the differences between him and the other children his age....

 

“You’re such pretty colors!” he’d exclaim and flash a toothy grin at them.

His grandpa would raise his eyebrows, “What you mean, Pat? Do you mean my clothes?”

Patton would shake his head, “The colors around you! They change sometimes, but I like how they look today.”

“What do the colors around me look like today?” he had scratched his head in confusion.

“Bright yellow like the sun and blue like the sky. You can’t see them, grandpa?” 

“No. ‘Fraid not, kiddo.”

Patton would frown, thinking that maybe it was because his grandparents had poor eyesight.

 

When he was enrolled in preschool, he made friends easily. He loved painting and drawing. He often saw the world in a rather unconventional way, everything was brighter and more intense. Sometimes it was like he couldn’t differentiate his dreams from his reality, but it made him an imaginative and curious child with tremendous goals. In Patton’s starry eyes, nothing was ever impossible. And people were naturally drawn to him.

Things changed after he entered second grade. 

* * *

Patton had been playing tag with his friends when somebody had stopped the game to announce that they had found something interesting. 

“It’s a baby bird!” they exclaimed excitedly as they gestured for the others to follow.

The kid led them to an old tree near the outer corner of the playground, carefully watching where they stepped. There, amongst the fallen leaves and twigs that lay scattered about on the dirt, was a baby bird. Patton could tell it was still young because of its small amount of feathers.

The other children smiled, “So cute!”

“But where’s its mother?” someone asked.

“Why doesn’t it fly away?”

“It must’ve fallen from the tree.”

Patton frowned in concern, “Should we tell a teacher?” He further inspected the creature, “The bird doesn’t seem in good shape.”

The friend who had led them to the fledgling, raised their eyebrows at Patton, “How can you tell? It’s still chirping and everything.”

“She’s hungry, scared, and her wing is hurt.”

“She? Patton, how can--”

Patton was no longer listening, he was kneeling down next to the creature. He could see the dull gray that clung to the fledgling and he knew that it wasn’t good. She was sick and terror-stricken, Patton desperately wanted to help. He reached out a hand to pick the bird up, but she panicked at the sight of him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” his friend advised.  But Patton knew he could get the bird to trust him, he just knew it. 

Putting all his focus on the injured creature before him, he tried his best to send her his calming energy. He wasn’t sure if it would work or not, but he noticed a turquoise glow was beginning to emanate from his hands and arms. His eyes widened in surprise, was that  _ his  _ aura? Up until that point, he had never seen his  _ own _ colors.

The bird allowed him to pick her up off the ground, it relaxed in his hands, settling comfortably as if he were a nest. There was a collective gasp from behind him as his friends continued to watch in utter amazement.  He held the fledgling carefully and lightly caressed her soft feathers, willing his soothing turquoise light to wrap around her, transmitting energy where it was needed most. Within a few minutes, the bird was chirping excitedly. Its colors had gone from a muted gray to a rich blend of greens, pinks, and blues.

Patton grinned happily at the now healthy and strong bird he held. He could feel her eagerness to fly, so he released her from his hold. She flew without hesitation or complication, circling back to him as if to give thanks before soaring off to wherever she had come from.

He turned around, still smiling with joy. Patton’s face fell slightly when he realized the way some of the other kids were looking at him. They mostly gaped at him in astonishment, but some were watching him, eyes filled with suspicion.

“Wha--what’s wrong, guys?” he asked hesitantly.

Talyn, the one who had found the fledgling, glanced at the others with uncertainty before stepping up to Patton. “We’re just really shocked about what just happened. Did you--did you really just  _ heal _ that bird?”

He nervously got to his feet, feeling a bit light-headed. His sight momentarily went dark, stars skittering across his vision and he frowned.

“Are you okay?” Talyn asked with worry.

“I think so. I think I’m just tired, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

One of the other kids cleared his throat and spoke up, “H--how did you do it?”

Patton glanced over at the boy and shrugged sheepishly, “I don’t really know. I just knew I had to.”

The boy was visibly shaken, his eyes wide with a strange look of.... _ reverence? _

But not everyone felt that what Patton had done was something to admire.

A little girl that Patton had been friends with since kindergarten, wrinkled her nose in repulsion and raised a shaky hand and pointed at him, “You aren’t normal.”

Patton’s heart sank.

Two others that Patton had assumed to be friends nodded in agreement, “I’ve heard that only those who have sold their soul can do magic.”   

Talyn turned to them in disbelief, “What is wrong with you? He just did something absolutely amazing!”

The other kids simply shook their heads, one of them threatening to tell a teacher about it. They grabbed the other boy, who had never stopped staring at Patton in wonder and disbelief, and pulled him away from the scene.

Talyn turned to Patton, a look of apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Pat. I still don’t understand how what you did was even possible, but it’s--it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?”

He looked at them with a mixture sadness and relief, grateful that they hadn’t run away from him like the others, but a bit heartbroken at how easily everyone’s opinion of him had changed.

Talyn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Hey, they’re stupid if they actually believe what you did was wrong. They don’t deserve your friendship, Pat. They never did if this is how they react to something that is a part of who you are.”

Patton found the strength to smile up at Talyn, letting their words reassure him. He found himself nodding in agreement upon hearing the intense certainty in their voice. However, he was still worried about what others would think if they knew.

“Talyn?”

“Yeah, Pat?”

“Can--do you think this can be a secret between friends?”

They frowned, but nodded. “Yeah. If you want me to keep it secret then of course I will. Cross my heart.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Of course,” Talyn grinned. “But you have to promise that you tell me everything you discover about your great mystical powers,” they wiggled their hands dramatically, pretending to cast a spell. “And don’t forget to let me know when you’re about to become a superhero because I want dibs on costume designer.”

Patton giggled, “Deal.”

His grandparents inevitably found out about the incident through one of the kid’s parents. When they questioned him, Patton found it hard to lie. And if what Talyn had said was true, then he needed his grandparents to accept him for every part of him.  And fortunately, they did. 

But it was never the same after that. It wasn’t like his friendship with Talyn.

His grandparents began to look at Patton as someone greater than themselves and that made him highly uncomfortable. 

Patton began to hide that part of himself from the people he met; he decided that miracles were meant to be a secret because people seldomly knew the right way to react to them.

And that was okay. That was fine because Patton didn’t mind helping others in his secret miraculous ways, nor did he mind helping in more mundane ways.

 

Once the incident became nothing more than simple rumor, people easily trusted Patton because he was a constant source of good advice, radiating love and positivity. He felt wonderful. He felt needed. 

Yet….as soon as they had absorbed that happy energy, most of them left him alone again.

Talyn was one of his only friends who stayed constant. They remained in Patton’s company even after the positive energy ran out. Even after the warm blanket of light no longer wrapped itself around them, they stayed.

Patton appreciated his friend and their unbreakable loyalty, but they seemed to be the only one who stuck around because they genuinely liked him. Everyone else saw him as something other than a person. Relationships became more about what he could do rather than who he was and what made him human.

Any sign of humanity. Any sign of sadness, anger, fear, or doubts and all the people he thought truly cared, would disappear.

It reminded him of a poem he had read,

 

_ Laugh, and the world laughs with you; _

_ Weep, and you weep alone…. _

 

When Patton was melancholy, people would be confused as to why he had suddenly changed. It wasn’t normal. Everyone looked to him to provide advice. Everyone relied on him to have a smile on his face.

 

_ Rejoice, and men will seek you; _

_ Grieve, and they turn and go; _

_ They want full measure of all your pleasure, _

_ But they do not need your woe…. _

 

Miracles. They took time. They took effort. They took energy. 

And it was painful. 

Patton felt it all. So many feelings surging through him and he couldn’t control them. He had to twist and fight and turn the bad into good, the dark into light.

So sometimes….sometimes that smile wasn’t real. Sometimes that smile had to be sacrificed and given to another person who needed it more.

They were in pain and needed relief.

That’s what miracles were for. Fixing the broken.

Nobody ever stopped to think that maybe the Miracle could be broken too.

 

_ Be glad, and your friends are many; _

_ Be sad, and you lose them all-- _

_ There are none to decline your nectared wine, _

_ But alone you must drink life’s gall.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is called Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox


	7. Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nerd we all know and love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: bullying and swearing

An active mind is considered an intelligent one. 

It’s difficult to say where the life of the mind truly begins, but many believe it starts with images and connections. And by six months of age, infants begin to recognize the basic sounds of their native language. What was once solely emotions and pictures, slowly progresses into words. 

Thoughts.

* * *

 

Logan Caedmon was eager to learn all about words and what they meant. At the age of two, he was reading with ease. At the age of four, he discovered that there’s about 6,909 different languages in the world and he became intensely interested in them all.

His mom, a single mother trying her best to take care of her child, knew that he was rather special. So one day, she found the time to take Logan to the library, where he excitedly pointed out the books he wanted. His mother obliged, getting a library card and checking out a few books that he had chosen. It had been the beginning for Logan and he wholeheartedly immersed himself in literature, reading nearly everything he could get his hands on.

When he entered kindergarten, it didn’t take long for the other kids to label him a nerd. It didn’t help that he had bad vision and had to wear glasses either. 

So Logan became used to being bullied. It didn’t make much sense to him though. Why would people try and hurt him just because he liked to learn? Did something like that really make him different from them? 

 

Luckily, not everyone was horrible to him. A nice boy had actually helped him one day as Logan’s classmates snatched his glasses away and started a cruel game of keep away. The boy looked to be about two years his senior, and the only reason he had spotted the problem was because he was out of class with a bathroom pass.

“What is going on here?”

The kids abruptly stopped, looking at the newcomer guiltily.

The boy opened his hand, “Give it here.”

They handed him the pair of glasses before running off to other parts of the playground. The kind stranger gave them back to Logan with a sad smile, “I don’t know why they would make fun of you for something that you can’t even control.”

Logan looked up into the most stunning eyes he had ever seen. Heterochromia iridis, his mind logically provided. But his illogical mind was spiraling into ecstasy. Warm, loving eyes separated into earth and sea stared back at him.

“I--I uh, thank you,” Logan managed to say.

“No problem, kiddo. Hey, maybe I should start wearing glasses, I think they’re actually pretty neat,” the stranger waved before heading off to class. 

Logan gaped at the receding figure for a moment before bringing himself back to the present. He spent the rest of the day wondering why anyone with eyes like  _ that  _ would want to cover them up with glasses.

  
  


Other than small and rare instances such as that, Logan didn’t have a lot of friends. Kids and even some of the adults didn’t seem to like him all that much. It might’ve been his tendency to correct the teacher every time they made a mistake. It could’ve been the way he declined sports activities in favor of studying. Whatever the reason, Logan was treated with disdain.

He told himself that he could deal with it. It was hardly a problem if it meant that he was going to grow up and be more successful. Why would it be a problem? It wasn’t as if Logan actually liked most people. He had his mom and that was all the family and friends he needed. Yes, positive social interaction was not all that necessary; Logan was certain of it.

The intelligent child could’ve easily gotten through his life with that sentiment, but life had other plans.

* * *

__

It is always a momentous occasion when a child speaks their first word. It is usually something meaningful to them, a word that has been repeated to them on multiple occasions, a word that can sometimes symbolize what is important to them within that moment.

However, it is strange to think that people pay keen attention to the first word the child speaks, yet they hardly notice the first word that is spoken to the child. Perhaps it is something difficult to keep track of. Perhaps it is because a newborn baby cannot yet hear perfectly. Or maybe it is simply because the infant is unlikely to remember what is said anyway. 

Contrary to the infantile amnesia theory, Logan is quite certain that amid the garbled voices of doctors and nurses, he distinctly heard his mother’s voice. In a soft and mellifluous tone, she whispered as she cradled him in her arms,  _ “Lovely.” _

His first memory and it was a wonderful one.

 

And the day Logan had said his first word, he had wanted to share that experience. The word he uttered had been the same as the one so graciously given to him. What was even stranger was the age in which he had said it. It had been apparent from that day forward, that Logan was going to be a very gifted kid.

But they never realized how gifted he truly was.

* * *

 

Logan was about eight years old, the first time a bully decided to hurt him with fists rather than words. The older boy had pushed him to the ground and snatched his glasses off his face before stomping on them. 

He turned to Logan and--

 

**_Freak._ **

 

Logan shuddered. It was so  _ loud,  _ hurting him on a whole different level.

“Wh--what makes me a freak?” he asked.

His abuser looked at him in confusion before seemingly collecting himself, “Everything about you. You act like you’re better than everyone else with your stupid glasses and your stupid tie. Well, you’re  _ not _ .” The boy kicked dirt into his face and Logan’s eyes watered as he coughed miserably.

 

_ You make all of us look dumb. You make me look dumb and I hate you. _

 

“I don’t mean to make you look dumb! I just enjoy gathering knowledge, that’s not a good reason to hate somebody,” Logan protested.

The older boy stopped what he was doing and gave Logan a questioning look, “I  _ never  _ said--I didn’t say anything about that. How would you know--?” 

Now it was Logan’s turn to tilt his head in puzzlement and he tried pushing himself off the ground, “But I heard you. You said--”

He was pushed back down by the older kid, whose face was twisted in disgust.

“I was right about you.”

 

**_Freak._ **

* * *

 

The weirdness had only escalated from there. 

The school bus picked him up right on schedule and nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first other than that the bus ride was louder and more chaotic than usual.

He rummaged through his backpack, pulling out the house key and unlocking the door. He found his spare pair of glasses and made himself a bowl of cereal to hold him over until his mom got home. Then, at about 3pm, he went up to his room and started to repair the glasses that the bully had unceremoniously crushed. 

The lengthy process of repairment made him frustrated. Logan decided to take a break and practice a song he had been trying to learn on his left-handed mahogany ukulele. He opened his bedroom window to let in some fresh air and began to skillfully move his hands across the instrument. Closing his eyes, he let his other senses take over. This was what he loved about learning a song. Try after try and practice after practice, there would be a moment in which something finally clicked and it began to flow like instinct. Muscle memory.

Logan listened as his hands danced along the strings, making sure that he was hitting all the right chords. And lightly, ever so lightly, he began to sing.

 

_ I woke up as heavy as lead _

_ An ocean of worry weighs me down in bed _

_ But there’s things to do, there’s a life to live _

_ Must ignore my stupid head _

 

A small chirping sound outside his window made him open his eyes, but he continued his strumming. A small bird, quite possibly a fledgling, perched on a tree branch outside his window. He smiled softly.

 

_ Friends float above in the wind _

_ Bright balloons pull them up as they grin _

_ But there’s things to do, there’s a life to live _

_ Must ignore the things I think _

 

The little bird seemed to chirp along to his singing. Strange creatures, birds. 

 

_ It’s like walking around with a stone for a heart _

_ People swimming in honey as your life falls apart _

_ It’s cold and it’s dark and there’s no way out _

_ I felt like you once, I wish I could shout _

 

He watched his audience of one with curiosity, wondering what kind of bird it was. Judging by the plumage it had, Logan would probably say it was a painted bunting. It was a light emerald green, which meant that it was most likely female. It regarded him with intelligent-looking eyes.

 

_ You never can undo the brain _

_ Now it knows of the holes, it will fall as it’s trained _

_ Cause there’s things to do, there’s a life to live _

 

The bird opened its wings and took flight, leaving Logan behind.

 

_ Watch them love _

_ While you stay in, the rain. _

 

He sighed and put away his instrument before laying down on his bed, his arms crossed behind his head. Something about today had been different than all the rest. Something about the way that kid had reacted to him made him uneasy.

Logan tried to shake off the feeling as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

At about 8pm, he heard the front door swing open. Logan drowsily straightened the glasses on his face and sat up in bed, ready to go greet his mother.

 

_ Sales have been down, how am I ever going to make it up to the boss? What am I going to do? This business isn’t going to last, nobody buys records and CDs anymore. _

 

Logan paused at his bedroom door, trying to shake off his fatigue. He could hear his mom in the kitchen, getting started on dinner. So how had her voice been as clear and understandable as if she were standing in the room with him?

Was he--? He couldn’t possibly be--

Yet, the older boy that had pushed him down had seemed rather spooked about Logan’s questions. And now, this was happening. 

It was a ludicrous idea, but Logan decided to test something. He had to know if this was real or all in his head. He didn’t know which would be worse.

The intelligent child tentatively walked to the kitchen, trying to calm himself. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. It was impossible.

 

“Hello, mom. How was work?”

She turned from the stove where she was opening some cans of soup. “Hey, Lo. Work was good,” she gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Logan frowned, “Falsehood.”

She laughed, “I love your vocab, it’s amazing.”

“Thank you, but you’re avoiding the accusation.”

Her expression sobered, “You’re right. I’m just--I’ve been afraid that  _ Radio Souls  _ might go out of business soon.”

He regarded her thoughtfully, “Maybe you just need to add some new merchandise to stock. I’m sure you can think of something.”

 

_ Like my boss would ever listen to me. _

 

“Thanks, Lo. That’s wonderful advice, you’re so smart,” she ruffled his hair lovingly.

He stared in worry and confusion. She was trying to protect him from her problems, but she didn’t know he could hear them. 

He could hear them. Why could he hear them?

* * *

 

After a few days of hearing words that others could not, Logan concluded that his condition was not temporary. He tried not to let this panic him, deciding to do some research.

Unsurprisingly, his library had very little information on mind reading. He didn’t have a computer at home, so he decided to log onto one of the ones at the library. He felt weird looking up something like this in public, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

Logan grabbed his earbuds and plugged them into the computer, relief flooding him. He couldn’t hear their thoughts through the music. He started his research, finding a few claims of people who could read minds. Unfortunately, they all seemed like frauds. Disheartened, he logged off the computer and reluctantly exited out of his music tab, the discordant thoughts filling his head once more. 

It only seemed to be occuring more and more frequently, increasing in intensity. It was beginning to hurt and he could barely focus on things that interested him anymore.

He thought that he might be able to tune it out if he practiced, but all he ever managed to do was give himself an even bigger headache. Logan took to taking his CD player and earbuds with him, tuning everyone else’s thought out.

 

It was a lot more difficult to avoid people altogether though, especially since Logan was still the popular target for school bullies.

He was walking through the hallways, blasting music into his ears until someone roughly grabbed his shoulders and shoved him up against the lockers. Logan glared up at them, finding that he had three attackers rather than just one. He recognized one of them as the boy who had unintentionally called him a freak. 

He stepped up and ripped the earbuds out of Logan’s ears and a myriad of thoughts were let loose.

Although they were all separate, it was apparent that each of his attackers had one common goal in mind. Torment the freak before them.

 

“HEY!”

The three bullies turned in unison. A boy--no, wait….

 

_ I swear, some of the cishets that go to this school can be some of the most fu-- _

 

Logan tried to tune out the slew of cuss words coming from the individual’s mind.

People in the halls had stopped now, curiously watching the scene unfold before them. They had seen Logan get pummeled many times and it no longer caught their interest, but this was something new. 

“What do  _ you  _ want?” the guy holding him asked.

The student in the orange beanie glowered at them, “What do you think I want? Stop ganging up on this kid. What’d he ever do to you anyways?”

Logan stared in awe at his rescuer, who were they? He searched this time, letting the thoughts flow through him and found something. A name.

_ Joan. _

Whoever Joan was, it was apparent to Logan that they had gone through quite a bit of bullying themselves before finally standing their ground.

The bully dropped Logan to the floor, giving Joan full attention. 

“What we do is none of your business. And if you think it is, then I guess you’re looking to get hurt.”

Joan crossed their arms, “I fuckin dare you.”

They appeared confident, but Logan knew what nobody else did.

Joan was panicking on the inside.

 

Logan lifted an eyebrow in confusion. Why the hell was Joan putting themselves in danger for  _ him? _

 

The three goons advanced on them, but Joan readied themselves for a fight. Before the others could, Joan threw a punch at the closest one and managed to dodge the others who were now trying to grab them by the scruff of their jacket. Joan tried to land another hit, but they were pushed to the floor. The guy who had gotten punched wanted retaliation. 

Logan didn’t know what to do, but he knew he had to do something.

He tapped the vengeful bully on the shoulder, “I do believe that your actions would greatly upset your poor grandmother Pammie.”

Everybody’s attention was on Logan now. He could hear the shift in their thoughts. The bewilderment.

“How would  _ you  _ know anything about my grandmother?” the boy asked, uncertainty faintly coloring his tone.

Logan ignored the question and turned to one of the others, “And shouldn’t you be avoiding conflicts such as this one. The last time you came home with a bruised eye, your mother just about lost it and your father grounded you for a month.”

More than thoughts now, the crowd of people watching were murmuring amongst themselves. It was getting pretty hectic and Logan ached to put his earbuds back in, but he had to continue this. If he couldn’t win a fight, the least he could do was scare them away or maybe baffle them for the time being.

“And you,” he swiveled on his heel and pointed to the last bully. “--you should know better. Being hurt doesn’t give you explicit permission to harm others as well. And you should really tell somebody about it. It isn’t normal and it isn’t conducive to your health.”

They stared, dumbfounded at Logan’s words.

Nobody spoke. To everyone else, the room was complete silence. To Logan, it was complete chaos.

 

“C’mon, le--let’s go,” the guy in front finally said and they all nodded in agreement before walking away, glancing back at Logan every now and again before disappearing out of sight. The crowd dispersed with them, muttering to one another about the weird event that had just taken place.

Logan sighed in relief and offered a helping hand to Joan, who was still on the floor. Joan accepted his help, but watched him carefully.

“How did you do that?” they asked curiously.

“Do what?” Logan said, smirking slightly.

Joan grinned, “You know what I mean.”

“Nope, I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest clue as to what you are referring to.”

“Are you a mind reader?”

Logan felt his heart stop. 

Joan noticed the fear that crossed his face. “Hey, it’s okay if you are,” they said quietly. “I won’t judge you for it as long as you don’t judge me for the thoughts I can’t control.”

 

What? That couldn’t possibly be true. What Logan could do was an invasion of privacy. True, he didn’t want this ability and he wasn’t exactly thrilled to know what was on everybody’s mind 24/7, but why would anyone be okay with what he could do?

 

He lightly searched Joan’s mind, looking for any sign that they were lying. They seemed genuine.

“Y--you….it doesn’t bother you?”

Joan’s eyes widened, “Oh my gosh, so it’s true? That’s amazing!”

“But it doesn’t bother you?” he asked once more, frowning slightly.

“I mean, yeah I guess. Knowing someone can read your mind is pretty disconcerting, but I think I can trust you. You did just save me from a beating after all.”

Logan allowed himself a small smile, “You kinda saved me first. Though, I found it to be rather odd, considering you were panicking on the inside.”

Joan laughed, “Yeah….I guess I just hated seeing someone get hurt for no good reason. You’re right though, I didn’t have much of a plan. But better to panic on the inside than to panic! at the disco I suppose.”

Logan tilted his head in confusion, “I’m afraid I don’t understand the last part of what you said.”

They laughed again, “Looks like I gotta introduce you to some of my music. You ever been to  _ Radio Souls _ ?”

“Actually, my mother works there.”

“Really? That is so cool! Wait, so what music do you listen to then?”

Logan shrugged, “Mostly oldies music and classical music.”

“I respect that, but I am about to show you a whole new world of music you’ve been missing out on.”

* * *

Logan and Joan became good friends. It turned out that Joan was actually one of  _ Radio Souls  _ best customers. They introduced Logan to rap, alternative, rock, punk, hiphop, and a few other genres of music he hadn’t previously paid much attention to.

Much to Joan’s surprise, Logan had not yet told his mother about his mind reading capabilities. And he was afraid of them meeting, unsure of how they would react to one another.

Thankfully, they had both seemed thrilled to meet each other and Joan had kept Logan’s secret safe.

 

Later, Logan inadvertently found that Joan was quite the lyricist. He didn't pry though. He decided it was best not to ask them about their writing until they were ready to talk about it. He had little control of what he found out about others, but he tried his best to respect what people deemed to be secrets. Especially when they respected his.

 

Logan still struggled with the dissonant thoughts, but he was beginning to find a way to cope with it. 

Every single day, the hopelessly disordered and entangled mess of words would disorient Logan, but that was okay.  Because he had the cure for it. 

He fought words with words.

Or more accurately, disharmony with harmony.

Music, songs, stories, poems.

They were different from the things that plagued his mind.

They were organized. 

Euphonious.

He never stopped learning.

Life of the mind was not just a beginning, it was an ongoing existence.

Abundant and overflowing.

Words.

 

Thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Logan sings is Down by Dodie Clark


	8. Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is trying to learn how to navigate the spirit realm with the help of his new friend, but his teaching methods might be more than the young prince can handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: negative thinking, gaslighting, emotional abuse, slight blood mention, deceit

The shadows shifted around him, darkening the atmosphere of the mindscape.

They were feeding off his fear and growing in strength. They whispered words that hurt his heart and numbed his mind. All he could do was slump to the ground as unsettling chills wracked his body.

 

_Worthless_

_stupid_

_Powerless_

_nothing_

_Spineless_

_moron_

_Pointless_

_stupid_

 

This couldn’t happen. Not again.

He wouldn’t be bested by the darkness. Determination flashed in his golden eyes as he put his energy into conjuring up an astral weapon. He had done it before when he had traveled with Isabella. She told him that he had to focus on positive things in order to fend off negative entities. They were repelled by hope and happiness, but drawn in by fear and doubt.

A small dagger appeared in his hand and he sighed. He had been hoping for a sword.

He heard the bone-chilling laughter of the shadows and he tried to calm his rapid heartbeat. They swarmed to him and he slashed at the dark forms, a few of them disappearing with a piercing cry.

Others got the better of him, as their shadowy forms took shape and began to lash at him with their claws and teeth.

The young prince let out a yelp of pain, he dropped his dagger and it instantly vanished.

He stared at his bloody wounds in dismay. How could he have been so stupid? He had forgotten to conjure protective armor for himself, a skill he had unfortunately yet to master.

Now that he was physically wounded, the monsters’ words were clear and sharp in his skull. They were becoming stronger, morphing into the voice he knew all too well.

The voice of his father.

 

_You are nothing more than a failure._

_A fake prince._

_A young and useless child, afraid of the dark._

_Why do you cry?_

_You know you shouldn't cry._

_So stupid and useless._

_Pathetic._

 

 _“Shut up!”_ he shouted in frustration, covering his ears.

The shadows continued to plague him, fighting there way into his mind.

 

_Scared you’ll always be alone._

_And fearful that you’ll never be._

 

And it was true.

For the young prince, it was a valid fear.

Before he knew what was happening, the memories that he tried to keep buried within him were being pulled to the surface by the evil entities.

His father had seen Roman as nothing more than a burden. Blamed for his mother’s death, the prince easily believed that he was not worthy of love and affection. It was something that had to be earned. Something that had to be fought for. He fought for it now in the evergrowing darkness.

* * *

 

Roman had traveled the astral realm before and it hadn’t really been his choice. He was only five years old when it happened.

In two places at once, he could feel his body buzzing as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. He felt like he was being torn apart, maybe split in two. Not quite here, not quite there. He felt flooded with energy, like an electric charge within his soul. He could do anything. But just as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone and in its place was a deep-seated doubt. And then the monsters came.

Grotesque creatures, hungry and desperate for a taste of the golden light that was suddenly revealed to them.

He had tried to wake up, but found that he couldn't. It was like he was stuck in some sort of in-between state of reality, perfectly cognizant of his body asleep within his room but painfully aware that his spirit was not safely inside the sleeping vessel. He tried to yell for help, but no words would come. Beady black eyes glinted in the glow of his aura. They watched in feverish excitement, waiting for the moment to steal his life away.  

When a small Roman had awakened with a scream and his eyes had flooded with tears, his dad had hollered at him with so much rage and disappointment, harshly berating him for being such a baby.

And his dad somehow managed to scare him more than the mindscape.

 

After that, the young prince found that he was on his own. It was up to him to face the night.

It took him a while to learn how to move and it took him even longer to have the courage to split away from his sleeping form. Things weren't as bad sometimes. As long as the monsters stayed away, it was okay. Though they wanted the light, they didn't seem to know how to go about getting it. For whenever one neared him, a bright red presence would make itself known, blinding the creatures but filling Roman with a sense of wellbeing. A guardian angel, his mother. But she could never stay long, only showing herself in the most perilous of situations.

So when she wasn't there, the demons would whisper to him, telling him everything that was wrong with him. As they grew stronger from his fear, they began to tell him stories full of death and rot. Things that a young child should never have to hear. Other times, they would leave him alone, trapped inside a world of chilling nothingness. He could not hear and he could not see. Time would pass him by and he'd wonder if he was ever going to wake. Sometimes he wondered if he was even real.

In those moments, it was crucial for him to remember he was still alive.

He would imagine what it would be like to feel the warmth of the sun again. What it would be like to dance in a garden of flowers. What it would be like to let a cool zephyr gently entangle his hair.

He loved it when he could remember.

Something akin to magic would flow from him, changing the dark territory around him. A blank slate coming to life under the artist's hand.

Yes, Roman loved it when he had the confidence and inspiration to create what he needed. It was always more than a reconstructed memory, it would be different. Not the same as the real world, but comforting nonetheless.

It always had the potential to be bright and beautiful, except when the memories didn't come. He hated it when he couldn't remember. Lacking the imagination and the certainty he so often needed to create, the darkness would win. And he'd spend his nights losing who he was.

 

It was a few months before he found a beacon of light amongst the dark, like a star deep within the night sky.

Isabella.

A princess who recognized him as a prince. A sister who knew him as family.

And they stuck together through the dark times, sharing secrets and fending off evil.

Roman learned to keep Isabella’s existence a secret after his father continuously scolded Roman about his ‘childish games of make-believe.’ But Isabella was always there when he needed her the most.

As he grew older and never stopped hearing the ‘how to be a man’ speech from his father, Roman felt the urge to do more things on his own though. When he told Bella as much, she had gotten angry about it and had refused to leave him alone in the astral realm. Roman stayed as stubborn as ever on the subject, knowing full well that he was going to hate himself for it later.

When she finally understood that this was something that Roman just had to do on his own, she had reluctantly relented. After all, Isabella had seen the influence he had on the mindscape. He was very powerful when he wasn’t afraid of the shadows that lurked there and Bella knew that he just needed to realize how strong he really was. But she still worried….

Roman was taking risks before he was ready for them, over-exerting himself because of his father’s high expectations.

And now he was being pushed even further due to a certain ghost that he called friend.

* * *

 

_“Roman, what are you doing?”_

The young prince, who had been on the floor with his hands over his ears and his eyes shut tightly, jumped up in alarm at the sound of Colton’s voice.

 _“Roman,”_ Colton said again, this time more forceful. _“This is beginner level stuff. Honestly, you should have demolished these idiots by now.”_

He sighed, disappointed in himself. “ _I know.”_

_“Then what is the problem?”_

The prince glared down at his wounds, _“I’m not sure what went went wrong! I’m trying, but--”_

_“But nothing. Do you want to have control over your abilities or not? You are in a completely different reality where anything is possible, remember? Don’t waste it by being bullied by these imps. Fight back, will you? Stop being such a victim.”_

Roman’s hands clenched and he nodded in agreement, _“You’re right.”_

_“Good, now are you ready to continue?”_

He was pretty exhausted and he could feel his energy trickling away from him with each drop of blood that fell from the tears in his flesh, but....he didn't want to let Colton down. And the sooner he mastered his powers, the sooner he could help Virgil.

 

_“Yes, I’m ready.”_

 

So the prince stayed alert, fighting his demons all night long.

* * *

 

“Wake up!”

He was jolted out of bed and he sharply inhaled, struggling to calm his breathing.

Roman glared up at Colton, who was grinning at him. “What’s wrong?”

“You could’ve given me more warning!”

“I didn’t want you to be late for school,” he said innocently.

Roman rolled his eyes in annoyance, “Yeah, well I don’t know if I have the energy to go to school today. You were supposed to pull me out of that place _before_ morning. Being there isn’t always the same as resting, especially with those _things_ attacking me.”

He tried to sit up, and gasped in pain. Frowning, Roman noticed the tears in his pajamas and the claw marks that were still oozing fresh blood on his arms and chest.

Colton’s expression softened a bit, “You’re right, I apologize.”

The young prince gently touched his wounds, staring at the red that stained his skin. “I thought--I thought they’d be healed by the time I woke up.”

The ghost’s voice softened, “No, that’s not how it works. I thought you knew.” He shook his head, “Here, let me help you. Where do you keep your first aid kit?”

He pointed toward the bathroom, “It’s in the left-hand drawer.”

The ghost boy only took a moment to retrieve what he needed before kneeling down with a washcloth doused in water and soap.

“This might sting a bit,” he warned.

Roman nodded and closed his eyes, wincing as the cold washcloth touched his skin.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’ve been practicing your poltergeist skills, huh?” he gave a small smile.

“Yeah….thanks, by the way. I’ve been going crazy, feeling completely--” he paused, scowling slightly in distaste. “--powerless.”

They were silent for a moment as Colton carefully wrapped the gauze around Roman’s lacerations.

“All done, you’re still going to be a bit sore though.”

Roman glanced at the clock on his table and sighed, “I’m not gonna make it to school today, am I?”

Colton smirked, “No, I suppose not. I’m sorry, I just wanted you to succeed is all. Maybe I was being overly ambitious.”

“No, not at all! I want to succeed as well, but I do have a life outside of the spirit realm.”

The ghost glared at him and Roman bit his lip nervously, “Look, I didn’t mean it like that! I just--my dad doesn’t like me missing school and I can’t just tell him that I missed school because I was fighting demons in the mindscape.”

“You’re right,” Colton sighed. “I just haven’t accepted my fate yet.”

“I don’t blame you….but hey, we’re friends, right? That’s gotta count for something,” the prince hesitantly smiled.

The spirit scoffed at that, “No offense Roman, but I’d much rather have my life back. I do care about you and would like to help. However, I think my worries outweigh yours at the moment.”

Roman’s smile dropped off his face, twisting into a grimace. “That’s not fair. Maybe I’m not dead yet, but that doesn’t mean my issues are insignificant.”

The other boy just waved his hand dismissively, “Mere trifles. You would not last a day in the life that I had.”

“What is wrong with you? This isn’t supposed to be a competition!”

Colton crossed his arms, “You’re just moody because you know what I say is true.”

The prince rolled his eyes, trying not to show how much the boy’s words hurt. “Shut up,” he mumbled half-heartedly.

“Roman, you can’t even handle a few lost souls whispering mildly unpleasant words. You can’t shield yourself properly. You can’t summon a sword, the most you can make is a measly dagger. You can’t handle the astral realm, you can’t even handle real life! Without me, you’d be the subject of ridicule within your new school. You _know_ it’s true!”

Tears were threatening him now, but Roman didn’t want to cry. Not here and now in front of Colton.

It didn’t matter. The ghost boy saw it and he sneered.

“See? There you go again, Roman. The weakling. The victim. Not a hero and definitely not a prince.”

“Then why do you care!? If I’m such a loser, then why are you here?”

Colton regarded him with a pitying look, “Because….I was like you once. I can help you and you can help me.”

He stepped forward, placing a hand on the prince’s chest, he pushed down on the wound and watched Roman flinch at the pressure. He leaned closer and whispered, “Success is achieved through pain. When all is said and done, you must remember…." he pressed down harder, nails digging into the cut. He looked pleased as the gauze darkened with fresh blood.

"....I am doing this for your own good.”

 

And with that, he was gone. Leaving Roman tired, alone, and completely confused.


	9. Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colton (A.K.A. Deceit) recalls the events before his death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I reference lyrics throughout this chapter from the song "Betrayed by the Game" by Dance Gavin Dance. (If you check out the song, I don't recommend watching the video as that will only confuse youXD)*  
> Warnings for this chapter: abusive relationships, implied physical abuse, implied infidelity, some swearing, alcohol, car crash, blood, character death

  
  


_ “Damaged pride and vulnerable _

_ All my fears are open now _

_ Never thought this would hit me so hard.” _

 

Colton hated how his scars still hurt long after the healing process was over. It wasn’t fair that they could do this, slowly kill him from the inside out and not have to pay for any of it. No guilt. No remorse.

The only one who had ever seemed to care about him was his boyfriend, Pierce. 

They had met each other at a bar where they had instantly bonded, both having had snuck there way in. Too drunk to have much restraint, Colton had shown him the scars and Pierce had sympathized. 

He always was an emotional drunk.

But that never deterred him from alcohol. It was his favorite way of drifting away from all his problems. He drifted away….right into Pierce’s arms, and it was a relationship he cherished.

The only thing he disliked about his partner was just how much he tended to capture other people’s attention. Colton didn’t like the way they’d smile and flirt. And he didn’t like admitting it, but it made him afraid. What if he left? What if he realized that Colton was unworthy of love?

He couldn’t have that. No, he wouldn’t stand for it.

* * *

 

 

_ “Staring at my hollow phone _

_ Not sure if you’re coming home _

_ Bed still smells like I’m not all alone again.” _

 

He had never understood why they would hurt him, those creatures that dared to call themselves family. They never loved him. They just wanted him gone. A waste of space and an unnecessary drain on their precious money. It was pretty clear right from the start that they cared about their material possessions more than him. The few instances they bothered to raise him, well….he had scars for a reason.

Those reasons were rather stupid ones. Drawing on the walls, breaking a vase, spilling food, and just the usual mistakes that children make from time to time.

It wasn’t until he was twelve that he was sent away for school. Best time of his life was realizing that he didn’t have to be the victim anymore. Not only did the kids in his school learn that he wasn’t going to crumple at their silly threats, but the adults there didn’t seem to care what he did as long as they kept receiving money from Colton’s parents.

Money and power were the only things that seemed to matter in life.

That is….until he met Pierce.

 

_ “I know we fucked it up this time _

_ We got so high _

_ Couldn’t see the bottom.” _

 

Pierce was strong, but non-threatening. He didn’t have any money, nor did he hold any power. Colton didn’t understand how a guy like Pierce could have any friends. It kind of infuriated him, a strange feeling of jealousy rising up within.

“I don’t like you hanging out with them. Th--they’re a bad influence on you.”

Pierce had laughed, “Derek, what are you talking about? How the heck are they a bad influence?”

“Don’t call me that! I told you how I hate that name, call me by my middle one. How many times do I have to tell you?” his hands had curled into fists, trembling slightly.

“Hey, look I’m sorry. I forgot. It’s just, Colton seems so formal….how does DC sound?”

“Don’t change the subject!” he snapped impatiently.

Pierce had looked uncertain and conflicted, taking a step backwards. “Are you--have you considered that maybe you’re jealous?”

“I am _not_ jealous.”

He smirked, “Yes you are, DC.”

 

Oh, he hated that. That taunting smile reminded him too much of the people who had ruined his life. 

He couldn’t let him leave. He wouldn’t.

 

_ “I just crashed my car  _

_ And it got me thinking of you _

_ So I just thought I’d call _

_ To tell you, to tell you I, to tell you I still love you.” _

 

He promised himself that it was just this once. It would be all he needed to show Pierce that boyfriends should come before friends and family. 

Colton just wanted him to understand. He wanted him to know that this was permanent. He wanted him to stay. He needed him to stay.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last time that he would have to teach a lesson.

 

_ “My mental image impaired _

_ Undid the braids in my hair _

_ I rain destruction in the fight of of my inner feels _

_ Remove the tricks of the trade _

_ You’re just alone on the stage _

_ There’s no witness fly your soul through the windshield.” _

 

He noticed that his pain was lessened as he found more and more reasons to punish Pierce.

Colton was surprised by how easy it all was; how much power he truly had. 

 

_ “Damaged pride and vulnerable _

_ All my fears are open now _

_ Never thought I could hurt you so hard _

_ Staring at my hollow phone _

_ Wondering if you’ve found your home _

_ Feeling like I deserve to die alone again.” _

 

It was all a lie though. 

All his power and all his strength was a flimsy illusion that crashed down upon him the moment he laid eyes on Pierce that day.

In the only place that Colton dared to call home, untainted by horrible memories. 

Someone else was there. They didn’t belong there.

Not in his spot next to Pierce.

He had stood in frozen silence as Pierce had given a string of apologies, trying to explain that it was a mistake. A stupid mistake.

Colton barely registered the fear in Pierce’s voice. It was only after Pierce had quieted, eyeing the other in apprehension. Only then, did Colton notice that the other person had left in haste and that they were now alone.

No love, only terror in his unfaithful lover’s eyes.

Colton’s voice came out calm. Terrifyingly calm.

“You _don’t_ love me.”

“DC, I--”

_ “Shut. Up.” _

Pierce winced and Colton continued his thought, his eyes hardening.

“I’m going. I’m gone. And I’ll see you in Hell.”

Gone.

 

_ “We really fucked it up this time _

_ We got so high _

_ Couldn’t see the bottom.” _

 

It wasn’t until he was out the door, keys still in hand, that the facade of calm was ripped away. In its place, a sea of unfathomable rage flooded him. His hands shook and he felt like he held a storm inside of him, a storm that was ready to be unleashed. 

He got in the car, popped open a bottle of vodka, and gulped it down as if it were the last drop of water in a desert. Then he put the key in the ignition, revving up the engine.

His mind was everywhere and nowhere. He didn’t know what he was going to do now or where he was even going.

Hands clenched on the steering wheel and palms sweaty and heart-rate rising with the speed of the car, Colton through his head back and laughed. It was just like falling in love; it was impossible to control what happened next. You could have the time of your life and get safely to the destination of your choice….or you could lose control and get hurt, maybe hurting someone else in the process.

But Colton was beyond caring about other people and he was beyond caring about himself.

He was perfectly okay with it. He was perfectly fine when his vehicle veered off the road, wrapping around a tree. 

When he felt something warm and wet oozing out of him, covering his vision in red, he did not panic. He did not scream for help as he tried to move his arms, only to find that he was pinned down by a heavy weight. He did not care.

Except, he did.

Oh God, he cared and he cried because he knew. 

He knew that nobody would mourn him.

 

_ “I just crashed my car _

_ And it got me thinking of you _

_ So I just thought I’d call _

_ To tell you, to tell you I, to tell you I still love you.” _

 

Colton saw his phone lying on the floor near the passenger side, cracked and broken beyond repair. A dreadful reminder of an empty life filled with empty connections.

It was the last thing he saw as his vision began to blur, blood and tears blinding him.

 

_ “My mental image impaired _

_ Undid the braids in my hair _

_ I rain destruction in the fight of my inner feels _

_ Remove the tricks of the trade _

_ You’re just alone on the stage _

_ There’s no witness fly your soul through the windshield.” _

 

Darkness and cold settled over him as he struggled for breath. If he could do it over….oh if he could do it over….

Maybe he could get somebody to stay. Someone who understood the fear….the fear of being alone.

He coughed pathetically, the taste of blood on his tongue, metallic and awful. He sputtered and gasped, fighting and fighting before finally giving in.

Gone.

 

_ “Damaged pride and vulnerable _

_ All my fears are open now _

_ Never thought I could hurt you so hard _

_ Staring at my hollow phone _

_ Wondering if you’ve found your home _

_ Feel like I deserve to die alone again.” _


	10. Destiny Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil finds himself in the mindscape, but Roman is nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: snakes, blood, swearing, death mention, broken bones, suffocating

Time was stupid.

Virgil hardly felt it moving him forward anymore. Sometimes the only way he knew that time was still moving, was the people he would meet. They never stayed and he learned to distance his heart from them, but that didn’t stop the pain. They came and went, and he wondered if their departures would be just as heartbreaking to him even if he were a normal person. He wasn’t sure how everyone else experienced the world.  He saw time as the greatest enemy. It ripped away his future. More than that, it took other futures. People that he saw as better than him, ones that had a chance to change the world. 

They didn’t deserve it. Nobody deserved it.  Virgil wanted to save each and every one, but knew it to be outside of his power. The best he could do to stop the pain of knowing, was to not meet new people. If he did, he tried not to learn any more about them. He couldn’t get attached. 

Unfortunately, his ability had a way of shoving problems in his face and making him care. After he met someone, he was forever linked to them and he would know how their life would end.

As much as he tried to remain ignorant, he would always know.

* * *

 

_ “Princey?”  _ he called out as he scanned the darkness, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. It was silent, so silent.  _ “I can’t get here on my own, so I know it has something to do with you. Can you hear me?” _

Virgil whipped around as he heard something dragging across the floor, dry and raspy. 

Nothing.

He shivered as a chill seeped down his spine.  Chewing his lip nervously, he decided to keep calling for Roman. He couldn’t handle the unsettling quiet. Surely, his anxious mind was just imagining the ominous noises that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

_ “Hey, it’s Virgil. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d much rather be back in my usual nightmare,”  _ he laughed nervously. _ “You hear that? Roman? Please send me back.” _

 

He stopped pacing and suddenly turned.

 

It towered over him and almost seemed to grin maliciously before slithering away.

Virgil stared on in terror and wondered why it hadn’t hurt him. It certainly looked like it wanted to.

His answer was questioned when it turned back to glance at him and then slowly continued on. It wanted him to follow it.

Oh bad idea. Horrible, stupid idea. What if it was a trick? What if--

Virgil shook his head and sighed at his own rationale. What if the creature knew where Roman was? What if he was hurt and needed help? Virgil knew he probably wouldn’t be of much assistance, but he had to try. He had to.

He willed his legs to move, watching the serpent with distrust. Something about it was almost familiar.

He forgot all about it the moment he found Roman though. Virgil rushed forward, a lump forming in his throat.

The prince was lying in a crumpled heap before him.  Virgil’s hands were shaking as he felt for a pulse. He couldn’t stop the choked sob that escaped him when he felt how _cold_ Roman’s flesh was. It wasn’t even the normal temperature of the mindscape, it was like solid ice, frigid and frozen. His neck was bent at an unnatural angle, and his eyes--his eyes were still open, an expression of absolute panic upon his face.

Virgil couldn’t look away no matter how much he wanted to. Unable to stop himself from searching for a reason, he noticed the dreadful details of the state of Roman’s body.

He had been crushed and suffocated, bones were--

He forced himself to touch the corpse once more, feeling the broken ribs inside. Something huge and heavy had mangled him, pulverizing the bones of his body.

An awful realization struck him and he whirled around to find the serpent watching him once more, a glint of glee in his eyes. It unsettled Virgil just how human it was and he had a sinking suspicion that this was not its true form.

_ “Y--you killed him,”  _ his voice trembled and his breath was coming in sporadic spurts.  _ Why? Why would you--? And then bring me here?” _

The creature grinned and Virgil was well aware of the predicament he was in. Oh how easily he could be crushed, his bones grinded to a pulp.

_ “Are you--are you going to--?” _

The serpent slowly slithered forward as if mocking him. Virgil glared. It knew he was powerless here. It knew he had nowhere to run.

The creature coiled around him and Virgil let it despite his mind yelling at him to run, to fight,  _ anything.  _ It was too late anyways, the monster had already begun the unpleasant process of constriction. He was caged in. Trapped.  He could feel it twisting tighter and tighter, and he heard a series of sickening snaps.

Everything hurt and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t…. 

Virgil’s eyes opened to total darkness. He pushed and struggled, trying to wrench himself away.

 

He fell out of bed, escaping a heavy tangled knot of sheets.

 

Struggling for breath, it took him a moment to realize where he was. Relief flooded him as he took in his surroundings.  To the right of his bed, was a shelf filled with his many interests. CDs were stacked neatly on the bottom, art supplies and notebook upon notebook took up the middle space, and at the very top there was an array of black cat plushies. Dark walls were littered with posters and artwork just as they should be.

Virgil’s heart began to calm to a light flutter the more he grounded himself in this reality. It was familiar and comforting in his room, alone and safe. 

In spite of the reassuring atmosphere, he still worried about what he had just experienced.

_ Was it real? Was it a vision? A nightmare? _

It had certainly felt real, but there was only one way to find out the truth. He had to talk to Roman.

Gasping for air and feeling rather weak, Virgil struggled to stand. His bedside clock read 3 AM and he worried that Roman wouldn’t answer the phone or that maybe he’d get in trouble if his phone rang during the night.

_ Or maybe he really is dead. _

Virgil tried to push the thought away, but it was all he could think about. The image of crushed bones and terror-stricken eyes repeating over and over in his mind, forever seared into his brain.

He pulled the slip of paper with Roman’s phone number out of his drawer. Even though he had it pretty much memorized, Virgil was not going to take any chances of getting it wrong.

His bedroom door creaked open and he shuddered inwardly, afraid that the sound was much too loud for a quiet house at this time of night. He listened to make sure that nobody else was awake and then carefully crept to his parent’s room, perfectly aware that he’d be severely punished by his father if he was caught. 

Virgil was willing to take this risk if it meant hearing Roman’s voice. He had to know that he was okay. 

The anxious child hesitated at the door to their room, afraid that it would make more noise that would alert his parents to his presence. With a trembling hand, he twisted the knob and nudged the door forward. He squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for angry shouts at any moment.

When nothing happened, Virgil peeked through the doorway to find them still fast asleep and completely oblivious to his entrance. He held in a sigh of relief and tiptoed into the room, his eyes scanning the space for a cell phone. There, on the dresser beside his dad’s sleeping form, was Virgil’s only hope of checking to see if his friend was all right.

Feeling like he’d rather be back with the serpent, he warily made his way over to the dresser. His dad was rhythmically snoring and Virgil found himself counting each one, verifying that the man was still unconscious. He, himself, refused to breathe in his presence; Virgil was terrified that he’d see those eyes open up and glare daggers into his soul.

He forced his hand to wrap around the phone, snatching it up quickly before sidling away. Almost out the door, he heard a pause in the pattern of his father’s breathing. Virgil’s heart stopped. 

He allowed himself a sigh of relief as the rhythmic snoring resumed.

Out of the room now, he quietly rushed down the stairs and slid the patio door open. The cool night air brought him some much needed solace and he allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts as he let his gaze drift to the star-filled sky.

Looking down at the phone that was clutched tightly in his hands, he brought up the dial pad. He let his thumbs hover over the screen for a second before typing in the number and pressing the call button.

_ Please answer. Please answer. Please. _

 

It continued to ring and ring and ring and--

“Hello?” a groggy voice answered and Virgil’s heart leapt with joy.

“Roman!”

“Virgil? Is that you? Wha--why are you calling so late?”

Virgil contemplated his words carefully. How was he going to explain any of this to Roman?

“I mean, it’s really good to hear from you but like--I don’t understand,” his voice was a little clearer now, the drowsiness wearing off.

“I--I had to make sure you were alright. I’m sorry I woke you up, but I had to.”

The prince was silent for a moment before asking, “Was it another one of your visions?”

“....I think so, but it was different. I thought I was in the mindscape, but you were nowhere to be found until this--this creature led me to your….”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, but thankfully the prince seemed to know what he was going to say.

“I was dead?” he asked softly, already knowing the answer.

“Y--yeah”

He heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone, but he couldn’t gauge what Roman was thinking. 

“How?”

Virgil shook his head even though he knew that the other couldn’t see, “I don’t want to say.”

“Please, Virge. I need to know.”

“It was horrible, I don’t--I can’t….”

The prince’s tone softened, “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“No,” Virgil shook his head again, holding back the sobs that threatened him. “You--you can’t promise something like that, Ro. You just can’t.”

There was deep sigh on the other side of the phone and Virgil knew that Roman was probably losing patience with him, but he couldn’t help it. It was the truth and they both knew it. 

“You’re right and I’m sorry,” the prince finally said. “But really, Virge. I have a right to know,”

“I--yeah okay,” Virgil breathed, trying to get a hold of himself. “You were just completely….crushed. Like broken ribs and all.”

“Oh--um, erm….okay….but by what?”

“The creature that led me to you. It was a trick, it was like the thing wanted to just hurt me before it….well, ya know,” he shrugged uncomfortably.

“Creature?”

Yeah, it was a serpent. A snake.”

Roman let out a half-hearted laugh, “I haven’t seen any snakes in the mindscape, I assure you.”

“This isn’t a joke, I know what I saw,” he said flatly.

“Are you sure that you didn’t just have a normal nightmare? I mean, it’s bound to happen at some point. Not everything you see can be a negative future. Perhaps you were just worried about me and that worry became a nightmare.”

Virgil gritted his teeth, “I can tell the difference between a vision and a normal nightmare.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong! I know your visions are real, but….a snake? It doesn’t make sense.”

“ _ Nothing  _ ever makes sense,” the anxious kid huffed in frustration. “But I know the difference between reality and fantasy. This was something entirely separate from either. It was….I’m thinking it was more of a psychic dream rather than a normal premonition. And the snake was like a dream symbol of some sort.”

“What do you think it means then?”

“Like a person who is snake-like. Someone deceiving you, I guess. I dunno, is there anybody you met recently?”

The prince chuckled, “I just moved to a new school, of course I met a few new people. Everybody seems nice enough though.”

“Are you sure? You know what ‘deceiving’ means, right?”

“Yes,” he sounded a bit annoyed now. “Look, I’m pretty sure it was just a nightmare.”

Virgil’s relief was wearing off and he was getting distressed.  _ Again. _

Why was Roman being so defensive about it? He was acting like he didn’t believe in the premonition, but something in his voice suggested otherwise.

“Roman, are you sure there isn’t something….you want to tell me?”

“Everything is fine, really. You have no reason to worry about me.”

“ _ Princey.” _

“Go get some sleep, my ever vigilant knight. This prince can handle any and all danger himself.”

“You better not be lying to me,” Virgil growled. The edge to his voice, surprising both him and Roman.

“I--I’m not.”

“Okay,” his tone lightened slightly despite the gnawing suspicion that was growing in his gut. “Just stay out of the mindscape.”

“What? How am I supposed to communicate with you? Your parents don’t give you access to the phone or the internet!”

Virgil closed his eyes and grimaced, “I know, but I can’t have you getting hurt because of me.”

“I’m not promising something like that,” the prince stubbornly said and Virgil could imagine him crossing his arms in defiance.

“Can’t you understand this is for your own good?”

“Can’t  _ you _ understand that I don’t turn away from danger?” he replied haughtily.

“Why won’t you just listen?! I’m not making this shit up, you know!” Virgil knew he sounded like a child throwing a tantrum, but he was too emotionally drained to care at this point.

“You’re obviously not in the right frame of mind. You had a nightmare and I get that, but you can’t just expect me to give up just because of some snake or whatever you think--”

“Your body was completely crushed….destroyed….mangled. Your eyes were wide open and you were frozen to the touch, so excuse me for giving a fuck about your wellbeing,” Virgil snapped.

“I--I don’t care. You have to realize it was just a nightmare.”

The anxious boy pulled at his hair in exasperation, “You’re beginning to sound just like them!”

“Like who?”

“My parents.”

Roman hesitated, “I’m sorry, I just don’t--”

“Whatever, I  _ get _ it.”

The prince sighed, his voice quiet and apologetic. “Goodnight, Virgil.”

_ Click. _

* * *

 

Virgil didn’t know how long he stayed outside, his bloodshot eyes shimmering with bitter tears. He felt lost and unbelievably exhausted, but was unwilling to fall back asleep for fear of returning to the broken body of his friend.

He looked skyward once more, longing for a hope he did not have. He was so tired of wishing on stars because wishes were simply not enough anymore. Maybe they had never been enough.

Virgil felt something stir in his heart as he let the last of the tears fall. A strange sort of determination settled over him. It was small and lacked confidence, but it was there nonetheless. Perhaps he was just as stubborn as Roman. One thing was for certain, the conversation was definitely not over. He was going to keep that dumb prince safe, one way or another.  Virgil glanced at his reflection in the glass of the patio door and gasped in utter bewilderment. For a moment his reflection had seemed different. He scoffed, this was….stupid. 

A knight? Yeah right.

Still, his reflection seemed to shift ever so slightly and Virgil blinked owlishly before deciding it was time to go inside. He was sleep-deprived and seeing things. It was as simple as that.


	11. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman just got off the phone with Virgil and is feeling guilty about not believing in his visions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: gaslighting, ghosts, talk of death, deceit

Roman ended the call with a heavy heart, already regretting his words. It was their first conversation outside of the mindscape in nearly a year and he had wanted nothing more than for it to be a pleasant one. He just didn’t expect for their phone call to become a debate about life and death.

Virgil had only meant well and it was obvious that the anxious kid was calling out of sincere concern, but the fact that he wanted Roman to stay out of the mindscape was just too much. Maybe he could have reacted better, but Virgil didn’t understand the importance of what he was trying to do. This was for the both of them. This was about gaining control and living a semi-normal life. This was about changing Virgil’s visions. So yeah, the prince didn’t want to give up because of some nightmare, even if it could possibly come true. Maybe he was in denial about it all, but how was one  _ supposed _ to react to the prospect of their own death? 

What made him feel even more guilty was the fact that it wasn’t really doubt that was the problem. It was the fact that he couldn’t tell Virgil about everything that was going on in his life. If he did, then the boy would surely disapprove of Colton and his teaching methods. But despite Roman’s reassurance, Virgil still seemed to know that he was withholding information.

In fact, that information was in the corner of the room watching and waiting to see if he was ready to resume his practice. The ghost had grudgingly allowed the prince the phone call. Colton didn’t like him slacking off, said that he had to get control of his ability if he ever hoped to have a normal social life. 

“What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to cry about something.”

Roman hung his head in shame, “I’m not, I just--my friend had another vision, but this one was about me. I said that I didn’t believe him. Told him it was just a nightmare.”

The ghost quirked an eyebrow, “Okay? I don’t see the problem here.”

“I did what everybody around him does  _ and  _ I did what everybody around  _ me _ does.”

“And what is that?” Colton sighed impatiently.

“I doubted him.”

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with having doubts about something. Especially something as unstable as the future,” he hesitated a moment, “Do you mind telling me what the vision was about?”

For whatever reason, Roman avoided the ghost’s eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Colton. Something about the entire conversation he had had with Virgil just seemed private somehow. Maybe it was because of how relieved the other had seemed when Roman had answered the phone. Or maybe how devastated the boy had sounded when he talked about the things he had seen.

_ He wasn’t sure I would answer the phone…. _

_ because he didn’t know if I was still alive,  _ the prince realized, his guilt increasing.

 

“Well?” Colton was staring at him, “Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Oh, uh yeah. Apparently his vision, er nightmare, took place in the astral realm. He thought that I had called him to the place like I do sometimes, except I was nowhere to be found….and there was a giant snake that led him to--”

“Hold up. A giant snake?” the ghost smirked at him.

“Yeah, well he called it a serpent.”

“That’s stupid,” the spirit commented. 

“No, don’t say that.”

Colton rolled his eyes at him, “C’mon, really?”

“H--he saw my dead body, okay? It isn’t a joke,” Roman protested.

“Alright, but that still doesn’t sound like a vision.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But--”

“Nope, no moping around about some little dispute. You’re better than that,” Colton crossed his arms.

“I suppose….shall we go back to practice?”

“Nah, I think you deserve a break. It isn’t really fair to keep overworking you like that.” The ghost smirked, “It’s your turn to play teacher.”

“R--really?” Roman had almost forgotten that they were taking turns teaching each other how to best utilize their abilities.

“Of course.”

Roman scratched his head in thought, “I think you’re pretty good at moving objects at this point. And you have a natural knack for keeping other spirits away. I haven’t had much trouble with that for a while, so….thanks….I’m not sure what else you would like to learn though.”

“Well what else have you seen other spirits do?”

“I’ve seen a ghost project multiple images of themself before. She was trying to scare away the people in her house or something, but nobody could see her no matter how many replicas she made.”

Colton sighed, “What would be the point of it if nobody can see you though?”

The prince shrugged, “I think it changed the energy of the house. Even though no one saw her, they seemed to sense her. They ended up moving out of the house and it stayed vacant for over a year because rumor spread that it was haunted.”

“Hmm,” the ghost boy ruminated. “That does sound interesting. Could her replicates move things too? Could she be in other rooms all at once?”

“You’re lucky I talked to her a few times,” Roman smirked. “I think it just came naturally to her because she was such a multi-tasker when she was alive. Her clones would always be cleaning up her home and it was kinda funny because it definitely didn’t look like your typical haunted house. So to answer your question, they were rather separate while still being part of one collective mind. They were always finishing each other’s sentences like twins do sometimes.”

“That--that’s impressive. How many could she make?”

Roman frowned, “I think the most I saw at one time was about five, but--”

“Can you teach me?” Colton asked excitedly.

“I mean, maybe. I only lived in that neighborhood for a few months though, so I don’t know how helpful I’ll really be with that kind of thing. I’m still alive after all, but I think you should know--”

“Since I’m dead, I have nothing but time. I might as well spend it learning something cool. I have the utmost confidence in you, Ro. You are a really good friend and I hope I can return the favor.”

“I thought--” Roman’s hand unconsciously went to his wounded chest that was still in the process of healing. He could feel the scratchy gauze beneath his shirt. “--I thought you said we weren’t friends.”

Colton cast a guilty look at the prince, “I didn’t mean that, I was just--I was jealous, I guess. You have your whole life ahead of you and I’m stuck here. Why would you want me as a friend? Who’s to say you won’t try and get rid of me once you realize that life has so much more to offer?”

“Oh, Colton. I promise I’m not--”

The ghost waved his hand in the air, “No, no it’s okay. I am simply overreacting.”

“No, you’re not. Look, I really do consider you as a friend. As a friend, I’ll try my best to make your afterlife meaningful. I just don’t know how much knowledge I’ll actually be able to share with you and I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”

“Of course, Ro.”

The prince hesitated, “I don’t know if the replication ability is something that can actually be taught through practice. I haven’t seen other spirits use it.”

“I suppose we’ll figure it out together,” Colton smiled.

Roman smiled back, beginning to feel better now that he knew that he wasn’t letting the other down.

* * *

 

The good mood lasted for the rest of the night. Roman actually got a decent night’s rest because just as promised, Colton allowed him a break. 

It wasn’t until morning that the lights began to flicker and….

“Roman!” Isabella yelled. “Your canker-filled friend has been keeping me from meeting you in the mindscape. What is that all about?” she demanded.

“What did she call me?” Colton asked, looking rather offended.

“Uh,” Roman looked between the two disturbed spirits, wondering what the best course of action would be. In this moment, he was grateful that his father was almost never home during the weekends. Conversing with the dead could get rather loud and the last thing he needed was his dad bursting in on him talking to himself in a seemingly empty room.

“Maybe if you weren’t so dull-witted, you’d understand,” the ghost girl crossed her arms.

Colton glared, “Whatever. I simply didn’t want you interfering with our practice. I have been training Roman in defending himself against the more nastier aspects of the astral realm.”

“Yes, but what are your teaching methods?” 

“Isabella, it’s okay I promise. Colton has been an excellent mentor and pushes me to do better.” the prince reassured.

She shook her head defiantly, “I have been trying to see you all week and I wasn’t able to. Seems he’s overworking you.”

Roman shrugged, “I’m taking a break now.”

The ghost girl scowled, “ _I’m_ supposed to be the one helping you with this stuff.”

“Why haven’t you helped me then?” the prince quietly asked.

“What do you mean?” she was surprised by the question. “I’ve helped you. I just never wanted to put you into a situation you couldn’t handle.”

“I believe the prince is quite capable of handling most situations,” Colton remarked.

She glared, “I _never_ said he wasn’t. However, there is a time for these things and I don’t think he is yet ready.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I _am_ ready, but you’re just afraid,” Roman accused.

“So what if I am?” 

“Then you--you’re--” the prince threw his hands up in exasperation. “Then you have no right to tell me what to do!”

She raised an eyebrow, “What has gotten into you? Since when have I ever bossed you around? I’ve stayed out of the way. I never interfered in your life unless you wanted me to….but this is different, Ro. You have to understand that you’re dealing with things before you’re ready.”

“And _that’s_ the problem! I’ve  never  been ready for any of it, so why does it matter now?”

“Roman….listen to what you’re saying. This isn’t the reasonable course of action. If you aren’t ready for any of it, then why are you forcing yourself to do this alone? It doesn’t make any sense. I understand you have--” her gaze shifted to the other ghost. “--a  _ friend _ who is trying to help, but aren’t I your friend as well?”

Roman grimaced, “Isabella, of course you are. I just--I want to do this on my own and Colton allows me the freedom to do so.”

Her eyes darkened, “He allows you the freedom to kill yourself is what he does. He isn’t even looking out for your well-being.”

“Just because I’m not babying him, doesn’t mean that I don’t care,” Colton protested.

Isabella ignored the other boy and watched Roman carefully, “Ro, please. Be sensible. Think about what your mother would want.”

The prince scowled, “What makes you think I know what she wants? What makes you think that  _ you  _ know?”

She bit her lip, realizing her mistake. “That’s not what I--”

“Well, what did you mean then?” he snapped.

Bella blinked in surprise. She had rarely seen the prince this angry before.

“I--I don’t know. I just wanted you to know that you aren’t--that you don’t have to do this alone.”

“Just go away,” Roman shook his head.

“No.”

He glanced up at her and she saw something in his eyes that worried her. He wasn’t acting like himself and when she looked closely, she saw that something in his aura--his spirit was _changing_.

The prince pleaded with her, “Please, just go.”

She refused once more and Roman turned away from her.

And then he did something that she never would have thought her brother would do.

“Keep her away from me, Colton.”

Unwilling to believe her ears, Isabella just stared in shock. The prince refused to look at her as Colton hesitantly moved forward.

“What?” she protested, looking indignant now that her brother’s words were sinking in. "Roman!”

Colton looked just as confused as her, but she could tell that he was perfectly willing to oblige Roman’s command.

She begged for Roman to let her stay, but he completely ignored her words.

“You can’t push me away forever! You hear me? You just can’t!”

Colton placed a hand on her shoulder and she was back in the mindscape.

Far away from her brother.


	12. Clashing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is somewhat confused as to why he sent his sister away and Colton is just as surprised. They figure things will make more sense in the morning, but then Roman accidentally upsets his 'friends' and now he must make amends....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: deceit, ghosts, some yelling towards the end, gaslighting, bullying

The spirit blinked in surprise as Roman ordered him to keep the other ghost away. He could see the utter shock and look of betrayal on Isabella’s face and he couldn’t really blame her. It was completely unexpected and rather uncharacteristic of the prince.

And he had demanded it. It wasn’t a request or question and that bothered Colton in ways he didn’t really understand. He would have to talk about it with Roman later, but for right now, he had a spirit to keep away.

He sent her away and then there was this awkward silence and he figured that the other boy didn’t want to talk about what had just happened. The ghost didn’t understand Roman and Isabella’s relationship at all. He had been an only child in life and he hadn’t had anyone who was as protective as Isabella was with Roman. Nope, didn’t make much sense at all. 

All he really knew, was that Isabella didn’t trust him…. _ that  _ he understood. Trusting people was overrated and rarely ended well. The only reason he sort of trusted Roman was because he couldn’t see any way for the other to betray him….other than no longer needing his help. Colton wouldn’t let that happen though. Sure, he could aid the other in acting normal and fighting off a few demons, but those things would never truly satisfy the other. Colton had seen the jerks at that school and how they thought; they would never please the prince. He rolled his eyes at the nickname, Roman hardly acted like a prince. It was difficult to believe that this kid could’ve been royalty in a past life; Isabella was probably just pretending to be a sibling and  _ she  _ had the audacity to accuse  _ him  _ of being a charlatan when  _ she _ was obviously the one who was the fraud.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was Roman’s friend. Of course, friendship had always been a foreign concept to Colton. His friends had mostly been composed of people he’d  get drunk with and start trouble with. On the other hand, Roman seemed to think it was more than that. How utterly naive.

Nevertheless, he figured he should at least attempt to recognize what the prince was feeling. That was the deal after all. Assistance and advice exchanged for other services. Dealing with stupid feelings was just part of getting what he wanted, which was ultimately to feel more alive and to have the time of his afterlife. And yeah, maybe he liked the way somebody relied on him and looked to him for answers. And maybe Colton needed this idiotic kid just as much as he needed him. Whatever….it didn’t matter as long as he could keep Roman from becoming another Pierce. Another person to betray his trust. Colton refused to be humiliated like that again.

* * *

 

“Roman?” he hesitantly approached the prince. “Are you okay?”

The other boy slowly glanced up at the ghost, looking tense and uncertain. “I don’t know why I did that. It--it was completely uncalled for. Why would I banish my own sister like that?”

“I don’t know. I guess you were just angry with her,” Colton suggested.

“Yeah, I guess….” Roman still looked unsure.

“Hey, I bet hanging out with your little live friends will cheer you up. Tomorrow is Monday and a little bit of normalcy could do you some good. I’m sure this whole fight with your sister will blow over soon, but until then….you should enjoy your break from the mindscape.”

Roman’s eyes remained fix on a random spot in the middle of the room, giving no sign of having heard anything Colton said.

The ghost furrowed his eyebrows in concern,  _ what was going on with this kid? _

“Umm….Ro?” he sat down next to the boy and waved a hand in front of the other’s face until Roman finally looked at him. Colton chuckled softly, “Where’d you go?”

The prince gave a sheepish expression and shrugged, “I think I’m just...tired.”

“....okay,” Colton hesitated, biting his lip in indecision. He wasn’t sure how to fix what was going on and at this point, he was going off of what little experience he had of Roman’s definition of friendship. “Would you--would you like a hug?”

Roman nodded gratefully and Colton focused his energy into feeling the pulse within himself. Once he did, he tentatively wrapped the other boy in his arms. Hugging was still a rather new and strange sensation, and the ghost found himself overcome by emotions he couldn’t quite identify. 

“Thanks, Colton. I--I really needed this,” Roman murmured against the spirit’s chest, “....hey, would it--would you be okay with me calling you ‘Co’ or ‘Cole’? I just figured sense you call me ‘Ro’ and all….it’s okay if I can’t though.”

“No, it’s alright….I--” the ghost closed his eyes, hating the memories it brought, “--I used to go by DC.” He reasoned it was better this way. He couldn’t go forming attachments, especially to someone still alive. If he kept the nickname Pierce had bestowed upon him, it would help him to remember the pain that trusting someone brought. Trust was stupid and gullible.

“DC?” Roman mumbled, sounding like he was falling asleep. “What does it stand for?”

“I’d rather not say. I never liked my name.”

“Why not?”

“Parents….” he hesitated before continuing the thought, “....they used to constantly scream at me about anything and everything I did. I didn’t have the best relationship with them and I started going by my middle name or pretty much any other name I could think of, just so their condescending voices would get out of my head.”

“Did it work?” Roman asked, tilting his head up to look at DC.

“No.”

“Oh….I’m sorry.”

The ghost closed his eyes to avoid Roman’s concerned gaze. “Nothing to worry about now. Never gonna see them again, that’s for sure,” he scoffed.

They let the silence wash over them like a comforting shield. Colton hoped that if he didn’t completely voice his thoughts than maybe they wouldn’t hurt him anymore. And judging from the prince’s silence, he probably felt the same way.

Roman snuggled closer and DC let him, but the moment the boy was fast asleep, he let go of the pulse and drifted out of the other’s arms. He watched as Roman shivered and latched onto the nearest pillow.

Turning away, the spirit held up his hand and gazed at his see-through form, an unbearable nostalgia rippling through him. He pushed away the melancholy, favoring the power of anger.

DC left the house.

* * *

Roman awoke the next morning, some guilt still lingering. What was happening to him? Doubting his friend? Pushing away his sister? As much as he wanted to take back his harsh words and his impulsive actions, something in him was telling him that everything was as it should be. He was just trying to take control of his life and become someone that others could really look up to. So far, the people at his school saw him as an interesting and exciting person and he’d much rather keep it that way. Was that really all that bad? 

So what if his schoolmates didn’t know his secret? Everybody kept secrets and it hardly mattered; they only wanted to know a certain side of him after all. The better side, the side without any problems or flaws. 

He wished he could be as delusional as they were.

DC showed up and Roman didn’t question where the ghost had gone in the night, he figured that even the dead needed rest sometimes.

They didn’t exchange words as the prince got ready for school, piling his notes in his bag and grabbing his necklace off the nightstand. He frowned sadly at the ruby pendant and the dark hue it had turned a few months ago. It didn’t make any sense. He had searched online for a reason, but there was nothing about why a ruby would suddenly lose its color. 

With a sigh, Roman clasped the pendant around his neck and tucked it into his shirt before grabbing his book bag and leaving the house.

* * *

 

His friends were waiting for him at their usual meet-up spot by the lockers. 

Zain Fenech was one of the kids who had been in Mr Roth’s class on Roman’s first day of school. They had mostly bonded over action movies and TV shows. DC had known most of Zain’s references and had helped the prince out in their in-class conversations; the ghost had apparently spent most of his afterlife roaming around parties and movie theatres. At some point, Zain began to consider Roman a friend and he introduced him to his other friends. There was Reese Giddings, captain of the basketball team. And Emmett Brannon, a guy Roman recognized from football practice. 

They never really spoke about anything other than girls and sports, two topics that didn’t really interest him….not that he’d ever have the guts to complain. Pretending to be somebody else actually wasn’t all that difficult, especially with DC at his side. In all honesty, he could let his mind wander without much consequence. The ghost beside him was a lot more interested in the conversations and made sure that the prince kept up with the jock facade.

Today didn’t seem to be any different. They each greeted Roman with their usual secret handshake and then Zain went back to talking to the other two about some girl that was in his gym class. “She has these really dark eyes. They have to be the darkest I’ve ever seen and I know she was looking me over with them, really you guys should’ve seen it! She's absolutely perfect. Perfectly luscious lips and perfectly defined hips,” he drew the curvature of her body in the air.

The other two couldn’t hold in their laughter. “Yeah right, man. I bet she’s way outta your league,” Reese scoffed. 

“What would she even be looking at?” Emmett added with a smirk, “Your arms aren’t nearly as impressive as mine.”

“Shut up, I can knock you out easily if I wanted to.”

Roman was only half listening as he watched the other kids getting ready for their class. Some of them were hanging with their own group of friends. A group of girls were looking their way, whispering and hiding giggles. One of them noticed Roman staring and she smiled brightly at him. Surprised, he smiled back and gave a small wave. For whatever reason, this action made them giggle even more. 

“Hey, weren’t you even listening? That girl you’re making goo goo eyes at is off limits, okay?”

“Goo goo eyes?” Roman asked, confusion evident on his face.

Zain rolled his eyes as if he were dealing with an idiotic child.

 

_ Ro, those girls have an obvious crush on at least one of you guys,  _ DC informed him.

_ Oh. Ohhh, wait what does that have to do with me? _

 

His friends were getting impatient with him, particularly Zain, who suddenly grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the lockers.  Roman’s head hit metal and he blinked in shock before glowering up at Zain, “What the hell was that for?!”

“You like her, don’t you?” 

“Wha--no, of course not!”

 

_ Who’s he talking about, DC? _

The spirit scowled,  _ Evidently, the girl you smiled at is the girl he likes. This oaf thinks that you’ve betrayed him by waving at her. _

_ What? That’s complete nonsense! _

 

The boy released Roman and pointed at him, “I trusted you.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Roman protested, growing more agitated as he realized that the people in the hallway were attentively watching them. He turned to the others, “Emmett? Reese?”

Reese just shook his head, “I don’t know. We thought you were cool, but maybe not.”

“I thought we were friends. You’re all really gonna turn on me just because of some girl that I’m not even into?” 

Zain narrowed his eyes, “Then who are you into? And don’t give me anymore bullcrap about not knowing a lot of people here. It’s been months. Nearly a year, Ro.”

“Yeah and you never even tell us anything about yourself, not really. What do you got to hide anyways?” Emmett crossed his arms.

Roman shrank away from them, not knowing what to say.

 

_ You should tell them you’re in a long-distance relationship,  _ DC said urgently.

_ Why would that help anything? _

_ It would prove that you weren’t flirting with that girl and you wouldn’t have to admit….uh, nevermind. Just trust me on this! _

 

He nodded slightly and proceeded to tell the other boys about a girl he knew a few towns away and how his heart belonged to her.

It did seem to ease their minds a bit, but Zain still eyed him doubtfully, “If I ever find out you’re lying, I’ll destroy that face of yours.”

Roman inwardly shuddered at the threat.

“You’re gonna have to earn our trust back in some way or another,” Emmett commented.

“Huh?”

Reese laughed, “You didn’t think you’d be off the hook that easily, did you?”

They exchanged mischievous glances with one another and Roman warily waited to see what it was he had to do to be back within his friends’ good graces.

* * *

 

_ I don’t think I can do this. _

DC hovered beside him, looking more than a little annoyed. He gave a sidelong look at Roman and sighed,  _ You need to do this if you want to keep them as friends. _

_ Correction: I CAN’T do this _

_ Why not? _

_ It’s just too mean. _

The ghost frowned,  _ Just picture whatever makes you angry and direct it at your target. It really isn’t that difficult. The sooner someone learns about the cruelties of life, the better. _

_ You don’t actually believe that, do you? _

DC rolled his eyes,  _ Look, I can always do it for you if you want me to. _

_ No way am I letting somebody else control my body,  _ Roman’s face paled.

_ Fine, then you better go do what you have to do. Your idiotic friends are watching. _

Roman huffed in frustration, but took a step towards his intended target. It was time to prove himself and apparently, insulting and scaring this nerd was the way to do it. How hard could it be?

* * *

* * *

 

They were staring at him. 

The same three goons that had tried to bully him and Joan at the beginning of the year were staring at him and it was making Logan’s skin crawl. He knew that the bullies were planning something, but he wasn’t completely sure what it was. Their thoughts kept getting entangled with everyone else’s no matter how much he tried to focus. 

Logan knew there was a fourth addition to their group, but he didn’t see the other guy with them at the moment. Perhaps the rumors of the fight at the lockers had been true.

 

It wasn’t until the end of the school day when everyone was getting ready to head home, that Logan noticed someone approaching him. He didn’t turn around as he tried to zero in on the kid’s intentions, but something was….off.

He hesitantly turned around to face the boy, surprised to see that it was Roman from Mr Roth’s class. They had never spoken, Logan had lost interest after the boy had chosen to start hanging out with that stupid crowd of bullies.

However, Logan was beginning to realize that there was something different. Bullies were one thing, but Roman Aurelius was another. His thoughts zoned in and out of Logan’s perception. It wasn’t that he had suddenly stopped thinking or that Logan had momentarily lost the signal. No, this was like static, disrupting the connection….this was like--

Logan shook his head in disbelief,  _ Almost like his thoughts are elsewhere, moving to a part of the mind that I can’t reach. _

 

“Hey, nerd. Where’s that other weird kid you usually hang out with?”

Logan rolled his eyes at the label, how could he have forgotten who Roman hung around with. This kid was probably just like them.

“Joan,” Logan said matter-of-factly, “and they aren’t weird.”

“Whatever. I asked you where he’s at; my friends wanna make sure that you’re alone,” Roman continued without acknowledging the correction.

“They.”

The jock raised an eyebrow, “They?”

“Joan is they,” Logan explained, waiting for cruel and ignorant remarks.

The remarks didn’t come though. Roman simply shrugged, “Okay, but you still didn’t answer my question, dweeb.”

“They’re at a doctor’s appointment, but I don’t understand why this information is relevant. Nor do I understand why you feel the need to use such childish insults on me, it’s quite sad really.”

The boy glared, “You think I’m sad when you’re the one alone.”

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but was promptly interrupted.

“Geek Squad? More like Squadless Geek!” Roman chuckled, chancing a glance at his friends who were standing within earshot.

Logan had to admit, the insult was rather hurtful and much more creative than the insults he was used to hearing. He would never say that out loud though. Instead he ignored the laughter of Roman’s peers, crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow, “Really? You’re lashing out at me like a little bratty baby and I refuse to sink to your level. I’m gonna take the high road and ignore you. Good luck with whatever your problem is.”

Roman let out a genuine laugh and Logan froze at the sound, wondering what was coming next. 

“You’re gonna ignore me? Take the high road, you say? You just called me a little bratty baby. Is that not an attempt at a petty retort?”

The nerd’s cheeks reddened and he found his resolve being tested. He had never had much trouble reading people, but this guy’s thoughts and actions were completely conflicted and it seemed that the jock was much more witty and observant than Logan had previously given him credit for. Without further comment, he turned around to hide his embarrassment and began to swiftly walk away, but Roman grabbed him by the shoulder to keep him in place.

 

_ Oh God, please don’t make me use physical force. I don’t want to hurt anybody, but I think that everyone expects me to if I don’t get this right. _

 

Logan blinked in surprise at the thoughts, his mind momentarily forgetting that not everybody heard them, “You--you’re just doing this to impress your friends?”

Startled, Roman let go of Logan’s shoulder and stared for a moment in confusion before remembering their crowd of onlookers.

“I don’t need to impress anyone, my existence is impressive enough,” the boy smirked, looking as confident as ever.

Logan couldn’t hold back a scoff of disbelief though, “The only thing I find impressive about you is your cocky attitude.”

The smirk faltered,  _ Can’t he just shut up.  _

_ Evidently not. _

 

There was something wrong.

Logan couldn’t pinpoint where the other thought had come from. It seemed to come from Roman, but it sounded like someone else entirely. What in the world was going on?

Oblivious to Logan’s confusion, Roman snatched the glasses off of the nerd's face.

“Hey!” Logan scowled as the jock easily pushed him back.

“At least you admit there’s something impressive about me. That’s more than I can say about you, four-eyes.”

“Give me back my glasses, you idiot!”

Roman hummed, “How dysfunctional are you without them anyway?”

“Are you seriously going to call everyone with eye problems dysfunctional? Does your ignorance have no limit?” Logan growled impatiently.

_ I am not ignorant!  _ The stray thought shouted,  _ I just--I can’t show weakness. _

Logan blinked, “Is kindness weakness to you?”

There was a flicker of surprise and uncertainty at the sudden change in Logan’s tone, but the expression disappeared just as quickly as it had come.

“If I opened a dictionary to the word weakness, there would be a picture of you right next to it,” he quipped, smiling brightly when he heard the reassuring laughter of his friends behind him.

“And where would I find your picture in the dictionary? Under the word fake or under the word annoying?”

“Why can’t you just shut up?” Roman frowned, “Do you have a deathwish?”

 

_ Honestly, he’s just as stubborn as you, Ro. _

_ What? This guy is nothing like me. _

 

Roman Aurelius was definitely something else, Logan concluded. Apparently there were mysteries left in the world that not even a mind-reader could solve.

“Stop staring at me like that!” Roman snapped.

“Like what?”

“I--I don’t know. You’re looking at me as if I’m crazy or something.”

“Well for all I know, you are. Who else comes up to person for no other reason than to insult them and steal their property?” Logan asked, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. No way was he going to admit to Roman that he could hear pieces of the conversation going on in his head and that it was perplexing to say the least. 

“Just stop looking at me like that!”  _ I hate it when people look at me like that. _

“How about I stop if you give me back my glasses and leave me in peace?” Logan suggested. It wasn’t like he could actually _ see _ Roman very well anyways.

Roman seemed to consider for a moment, but then he heard his friends behind him.

 

“Man, I knew he couldn’t do it.”

“He’s such a loser, he can’t even hurt the nerd’s feelings.”

“Such a stupid softie.”

 

_ If you want them to like you AND you want the nerd to respect you, then you’re going to have to-- _

_ Yeah, I know. I get it. _

 

With a conflicted expression, the jock moved forward as if to strike him and Logan instinctively flinched.

Smirking, Roman let his fist fall to his side, “I think you know what’ll happen if you don’t listen to me. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you  _ yet.  _ However….”

Roman held the glasses in front of Logan’s face and in one swift movement, he snapped the eyewear in two before stomping on them for good measure.

“You imbecile!” 

Logan knew the damage was irreparable, but he still rushed forward to gather the remnants.

“Don’t call me that or next time it’ll be your bones,” the jock threatened.

The threat didn’t matter to Logan in that moment. He was too furious for rational thought. In fact, most of his rational thought was being drowned out by everything else; Roman’s annoyingly loud and contradictory mind was only making it worse. Logan clenched his jaw, refusing to back down as he stood up to face his tormentor.

“You. Are. An. Imbecile,” he asserted as he stared straight into Roman’s eyes.

“Nerd!” the boy yelled back, his amber eyes flashing with fury as he stepped forward, knuckles ready for a fight. 

“Prep!” Logan just about screeched, his own hands curling into fists.

They circled each other, waiting to see who made the first move. It would be difficult now that his vision was slightly blurred, but it would be worth it. Logan could hear the jeering around them, the bets that were already being placed, the curious cacophonous sea of thoughts. Maybe a fight would be a good thing. After everything he had had to repress and keep secret, punching out his frustrations would be rather therapeutic. Besides if he backed down now, then all of Roman’s idiotic friends would see him as an easy target again. And that was  _ not _ an option.

Logan was about to take a swing at the cocky jock when a teacher walked out in the hallway, “Hey! No fighting unless you two want to be sent to the principal’s office!”

They stopped and stared at one another before backing away. Roman relaxed his shoulders and suddenly gave a self-assured smile, “You got lucky this time, specs.”

The teacher nodded in satisfaction as things in the hallway went back to normal.

Logan just glared as Roman turned around and headed back to his group of friends without a second glance.

 

It was only then that Logan noticed just how ear-splittingly loud it had really become, so many--so many thoughts. No wonder he had been so on edge during that exchange. Trying to calm his breathing, he turned back to his locker and grabbed his CD player and earbuds. Music fell on him like a protective shield, a comforting blanket, a--

_ “Can you help me?” _

He jumped, eyes opening wide as he searched for the voice. Because it had to be a voice, right? Other people’s thoughts didn’t get past the music. Someone had to be shouting to be heard.  He searched the halls, but nobody seemed to be paying him any attention now that Roman was gone. 

_ “So you can hear me! Yes! I need your help and so do a few of my friends actually--” _

Yelping, Logan slammed his locker shut, wildly searching for the owner of the words.

_ “Careful, I think you’re scaring him.” _

_ “This guy doesn’t look like he can help us, he doesn’t even look like he can help himself.” _

_ “Shut up! The other one is protected by that ghost dressed in yellow, this guy here is our only hope.” _

Logan let out an audible noise of distress, shoving the earbuds in as much as he could and turning the volume on max. The thoughts stayed clear as day. 

_            “But--”  _

_     “No buts”  _

_              “Shush” _

_“Stop bickering!”_

He felt nauseous and ready to faint. No way was he going to be able to make it to his next class, he couldn’t focus in on anything and his blurred vision only made it worse. Today was turning out to be awful. This had to be a nightmare.

Ghosts? He couldn’t hear ghosts? They weren’t even real, right?

_ “C’mon, won’t you listen to us?” _

Logan shook his head, feeling like his brain might explode. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get away. He needed quiet. But where? 

The library. Nobody was really in there, especially since class began in a few minutes. The shelves of books were just far enough away from the Librarian’s desk and Logan wouldn’t be able to hear the thoughts. All he would have to do is sneak in while their backs were turned.

_ “Where are you going? Stop trying to run away!” _

Logan found a vacant spot in the corner of the poetry section. He cautiously removed his earbuds, relishing the much needed silence now that the jumble of words from the school halls were no longer bombarding him.

 

_ “Great! Now you can listen to us.” _

“No,” Logan just about whimpered, “I shouldn’t be able to hear you.”

_ “Well, you do. So you might as well listen.” _

“NO,” Logan said a bit louder as he backed himself deeper into the corner. This was supposed to be one of his few safe places. He didn’t want to listen. He was tired of listening.

_ “YOU ARE GOING TO LISTEN WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!”  _ the voices melded into one, deafening and horrible.

Logan cried out, clutching his head and falling to the library floor.

_ “WE’LL GIVE YOU REASON TO CRY. WE’LL GIVE YOU A REAL REASON,”  _ the spirits threatened.

His skull throbbed with pain and he was suddenly so exhausted. Why couldn’t they just bother someone else? Why him?

Logan’s vision became even more hazy as the tear droplets clouded his eyes. His sense of hearing; however, seemed to intensify. 

_ “WE’LL KILL YOU OURSELVES!” _

It was taking all of his effort to stay conscious, the angry melded voices tearing at his mind like needles and knives. And then there was something softer floating along the edge of his awareness…. _ pain….lots of pain….needs help…. _

A soft hand, cool and reassuring, lightly touched his forehead. Logan felt a buzzing sensation, not at all like the pressure of the wrathful shouts of the spirits. No, this was different. In fact, it felt like--like the pressure was being taken away from him somehow.

There was a light hum, like a lullaby. A wonderfully soothing voice that drowned out all the others.

“Are you okay now, kiddo?” the voice asked.

Logan nodded, sobbing gratefully into the stranger’s shoulder. They rubbed soothing circles on Logan’s back, whispering words of comfort. 

It was a lovely voice and it reminded Logan of another voice he had heard a long time ago. He wiped at his eyes, embarrassed by the tears. Pulling away from the embrace, he blinked a few times before somewhat getting his vision back.

Familiar eyes gazed back at him from behind dark-rimmed glasses, not unlike the frames that Logan had worn. The eyewear wasn’t what caught his attention though, it was what lay beneath them. Beautiful, unique, and caring eyes where the earth met the sea. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading<3  
> Let me know what you think of the story, comments are always welcome:)


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